Subduction
by Kit Chan76
Summary: In the midst of sudden loss the Krew works to expose and bring down a psychopathic firebender bent on restoring his nation to its former glory.
1. The Burial

It wasn't until long after the chaos ended that Korra realized how wrong things truly were, when Bolin stood wide-eyed and silent before hundreds with a plain platinum box atop a bare earth dais behind him. He had been there for a while, long enough for the silence to grow awkward, groping for words that would not come despite hours of preparation. Korra would have said he looked afraid, but she had seen him afraid before and this was not the same. Now, he seemed vacant.

"I don't know what to say," Bolin uttered with great effort, and he looked toward Pema with an expression that begged forgiveness. "I can't do this. I'm sorry," he said, seemingly to her, and stepped down from the platform. Then he sat in the empty front row, folded his hands listlessly in his lap, and stared at his feet.

Korra wanted to go to him more than anything, but the moment she made her move Asami, seated at her side, told her no in a firm but gentle tone.

"Leave him be. He needs space right now."

The ceremony did not last long after that. Men and women filed out of the hall past the platinum box, placing their hands on it, stopping to bow before it, some without acknowledging it at all. Bolin sat silent the whole while with his eyes on the floor, accepting the occasional handshake or condolence as the procession rolled past to timid strains of "Leaves from the Vine." After a time the place was empty but for close friends and family, who exchanged uncertain looks before standing to offer their assistance.

Korra stood, grasped Asami by the hand, and together they approached their bereaved friend. The Avatar knelt before him and took his hands in hers, but he didn't move. For a long moment she looked at him, struck by the emptiness on his face. Everyone had expected Bolin to be sad, but no one had expected _this_.

"Are you ready?" she asked quietly.

Bolin nodded and accepted her help to his feet.

"The airbenders will move him to the island for burial," Asami said. "Under Aang's monument like we agreed."

Bolin nodded again, and with Korra on one side and Asami on the other, was ushered from the room with what dignity they could give him. At a respectable distance behind followed Tenzin and his family, who airlifted the platinum box from its dais with utmost care.

It had been almost a week since an explosion rocked Ba Sing Se's upper ring, ruining its inaugural election and killing more than sixty civilians. Mako had been there with Prince Wu, attending to the very last of his duties as monarchical bodyguard, and had apparently been enveloped by the blast. Wu made it out and now rested unconscious but undoubtedly alive in a Republic City hospital, yet Mako's body had been mangled so severely that Lin Beifong insisted the casket be closed for his viewing and burial.

Lin had been the one to identify the body, and being the closest city official to the family had been the one to notify them of the loss. The lot of them—the Avatar, the airbenders, Asami, extended family, and Bolin—were brought into a small gray metal room at the precinct without warning, and the news had been laid bare. Their grandmother Yin swooned even in her chair, Korra and Asami looked to each other for confirmation that what they had heard was correct, Tenzin wrapped his family in large loving arms, but Bolin stood resolute and stone faced.

"What?" he had said without inflection, and when Lin repeated herself he simply stared, stupefied.

At once Korra had moved to his side, grasped his hand, and asked if he was all right. But he didn't look to her at all, didn't even acknowledge that she had touched him. His thick brows knit, eyes narrowed, and the longer she stared at him the more she noticed a pulsing tendon in his firmly set jaw.

"I want to see it," Bolin said sharply.

For a beat Lin looked surprised, but she dared not argue with the look on Bolin's face. "If you're sure that's what you want, kid," she said quietly, and motioned for him to follow her.

Bolin jerked his hand away from Korra and followed Beifong from the room. The rest lingered in stunned silence, exchanging glances full of mourning and doubt, but eventually dispersed. The next time Korra saw Bolin was that night when he unexpectedly arrived on the doorstep of the airbender compound, Pabu in tow, with his earlier bluster conspicuously absent and replaced by subdued desperation.

"I'd like to stay the night here, please," he had said, eyes locked on the ground. "Will you get Tenzin, or ask him, or do whatever needs to be done? I'll sleep outside if I need to, but I can't go back to the apartment."

Korra pulled him inside at once and without so much as a word to Tenzin escorted Bolin to a room in the male dormitory. The earthbender made his way to the bed and collapsed onto it, and once Pabu had jumped from his shoulder he rolled away from the Avatar, remaining silent until she left.

The day after the news came was worse than the day before. Funeral arrangements had to be made before the remains deteriorated. Eulogies had to be written, and quickly. Half the airbender compound seemed to be camped outside of Bolin's door. Korra was the first to offer to help, but Bolin adamantly refused to allow her into his room. Asami tried next. But Pema brought an offering of steam buns and hot tea, and Korra was amazed when Bolin had relented at Pema's very maternal threat of breaking down the door. The two had sat in the room for most of the morning and afternoon, and Pema emerged that night with a shrug and empty script.

"He said he would think about what he wants to say," she said. "Otherwise he doesn't care about the ceremony, he just doesn't want to take care of it himself. He mentioned we should contact his grandmother."

The third day, Tenzin and Pema worked with Yin to make preparations for the funeral. Korra sat in on some of the proceedings and forwarded invitations beyond the boundaries of Republic City, and each recipient reported back that he or she would attend.

The fourth day saw the release of a message from the man who orchestrated the explosion and the subsequent closing of all transport into and out of Republic City. Even Su Beifong and her family would be unable to attend the proceedings, and Tenzin reported the news with increasing melancholy. Korra steeled herself against sadness and stepped into the city to make her official statement as Avatar on the issue, which she did in a haze of suppressed emotion.

The fifth day Korra resumed her training in the yard. Bolin emerged with Pabu on his shoulder and watched for a while, and when she offered for him to join her and blow off steam, he waved her away with a dismissive, "No thanks." When he stood to return inside not long thereafter, Pabu jumped from his shoulder and scampered to Korra. The fire ferret had remained with her since, making only occasional attempts to snuggle up to his master.

The sixth day brought the funeral. Korra and Asami dressed themselves in their finest formal attire before providing much needed assistance for the bereaved. He had obviously neglected himself in his grief, but after an hour he seemed ready to leave. Pabu rode in the Satomobile on his lap, licking absently at his hands, but when the party arrived at the hall Bolin passed him off to Korra again. Then Bolin took his designated seat alone at the front and stared at the floor, flailed in his speech, and stared at the floor some more.

The ride to Avatar Aang Memorial Island stretched in awkward silence from car to boat to car. Asami commented on the lovely ceremony and Korra heartily agreed—they hoped the conversation might spark some reaction—but Bolin continued to thoroughly examine his dress shoes.

An armed escort led Korra, Asami, and Bolin to the plot where the rest waited, heads bowed respectfully. The officiate, an aging and agitated man in dark green robes, said words that no one heard and motioned to Bolin. The silence grew awkward again.

"Bo?" Korra prompted with a gentle touch to his elbow, and he looked to her with confusion. "The burial."

The look of surprise on his face told Korra he hadn't noticed Mako's box being placed in a perfectly proportioned rectangular hole cut from the earth at Aang's feet, in the shadow of the great white lotus upon which the immense statue stood. Apparently he had not heard the officiate ask if he wanted to partake in the burial ceremony. It seemed obvious to Korra—an earthbender could easily close a hole in the ground—but Bolin shook his head.

"I can't."

Korra looked to Asami, and when Asami shrugged she turned back to Bolin. "What do you mean, _you can't_?" She had heard those words so many times from him in the last days that they ceased to carry any meaning at all.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, ashamed. "I can't. I haven't been able to bend for days," he said, practically a whisper. Then he stood tall, as though an idea had struck him, and looked at the official with resolution. "I'd feel privileged if the Avatar would do the honors."

Korra felt betrayed, being put on the spot, but she stepped forward at the official's gesture, planted her right foot, and closed the grave with a strong sweep of her arms. The earth rumbled as if in protest, but the deed was done, and no one was any the wiser for Bolin's apparent incompetence. Most attendees thought the gesture had been beautiful. Some of them clapped at her.

When the burial ceremony finished, Korra and Asami stood aside Bolin, accepting comments, handshakes, and condolences without words. Eventually the crowd was gone except Tenzin and the airbenders, Korra, Asami, and Bolin.

Again, Korra prompted him. "Are you ready?"

He shook his head. "No. I'll follow along in a while. You guys go ahead without me." He spoke evenly, his voice as blank as his face.

"Are you sure?" asked Asami.

Before Bolin could reassure her, Tenzin had placed his hands on her and Korra's shoulders and pulled them away. As one, the group left him alone at the grave.

Korra looked back many times as they went. She wasn't sure what she was looking for.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Asami asked generally as the group approached the airbender compound.

Tenzin replied after a moment of thought. "This has come as a shock to all of us. I imagine that it will take time, but sooner or later things will balance out again."

"He told me he can't earthbend," Korra said to Tenzin. "He hasn't been able to."

Tenzin shrugged. "Our bending is deeply connected to our spirits. A disturbance of this magnitude could easily disconnect the body and mind."

Korra patted Pabu on the head when the ferret whined. "I'm worried."

Pema spoke next, as wisely as her husband. "Well, when I was helping him write the eulogy Bolin seemed okay. He didn't want to talk about much. I think he was more upset when he found out that Opal and the others couldn't be here because of the travel restrictions. But he was never tearful or angry."

This was the part that had Korra worried. The news of Mako's death had hit everyone except for Bolin like a train. Everyone except for Bolin had been openly mourning, crying, and meditating. Only once had he seemed particularly grief stricken, and that was when he asked to stay at the island. Since then, Bolin had been almost entirely a blank slate.

"Dinner will be in an hour or so," Pema said when the lot entered the airbender compound. "Please be on time."

Korra and Asami excused themselves to their shared bedroom in the women's dormitory, and changed out of their formal attire and into their nightclothes. Then they sat and stared out of the west-facing window at the statue of Avatar Aang, all red and blue and orange in the sunset.

"He reminds me of how you were," Asami said at length as she stroked Pabu's back, "after you were poisoned."

"That was different," Korra replied. "I was wounded."

"So is he."

Korra swallowed her budding rage and sighed. "The funeral was a disaster."

Asami shook her head. "No, it was all right. Considering the problems everyone is having getting in and out of the city and the trouble we had booking everything on such short notice, I think things were fine. Mako would have thought it was funny."

"If I hear 'Leaves from the Vine' one more time I might throw up, though," Korra said.

Asami giggled. "Mako would have thrown up, too."

"He wouldn't want us to be sad, would he?"

Asami shrugged. "Who knows what he would have wanted. I don't want to be sad, though, so I won't. There's been too much of that going around lately between Mako, my dad, Kuvira, and all the fallout."

Korra put her arm round Asami's shoulders and heaved another great sigh.

"It's a nice place for him, don't you think?" Asami asked. "Calm and quiet and protected beneath the statue."

"Mako didn't need to be protected," Korra said, the edge of anger returned to her voice. "He needed to be away from that idiot Wu. If he hadn't been there—"

"He _wanted_ to be there," Asami interrupted. "It was his choice to return to his duty as bodyguard and he took it. No one could've foreseen what happened at the election."

"And nobody knows who did it, either, all we have to go on is that psychotic message they put in the paper!" Korra cried, frustrated. "I have trouble believing that it caught everyone completely off guard."

"It didn't catch them off guard, or so I heard on the radio," Asami replied. "I heard that there was a suspicious persons call put out before the attack that called forces to the lower ring. You know how people feel about the lower ring of Ba Sing Se—even with increased security they're going to ramp up more there than in the upper ring. When the police forces were separated, it all happened."

"And I find it hard to believe that a firebender was burned alive."

Asami winced. "They'll figure out who did it, and he'll be punished," was the only rebuttal she could offer, and Korra knew the words rang just as emptily to Asami as they did to her.

* * *

><p>It was well into dinnertime when Bolin returned to the compound. Without ceremony or introduction he took his place at the dinner table, loosened the collar of his dress shirt, and began to eat wordlessly. Never one for table manners, Bolin on a normal day would have cleared his plate in seconds. Now he did as much rearranging of the items as he did actual eating, and most meals left at least half his food untouched. Often he excused himself to his room before anyone else and disappeared until next day or after. He simply didn't have an appetite, and had grown numb to the looks of worry shot at him by the others.<p>

"You're looking peaky," Pema said to him when he sat, and Bolin looked at her without understanding. Then she stood and walked round the table to sit beside him. "Are you feeling okay?" She pressed her wrist to his forehead in motherly fashion. "You're pale."

It was as though Pema expected something of him. Bolin wasn't surprised that everyone was doting on him. Korra had told him more than once, sometimes with tears in her own eyes, that she was worried about his apparent lack of mourning. Pema had said the same thing before the funeral. He couldn't bring himself to actually tell them how little he had actually been feeling. Instead Bolin regarded his bowl of rice, untouched, and the stack of steamed vegetables that lay beside it. "I just need to eat something," he lied.

"When you've finished your dinner I'll send an acolyte to your room with some tea and a cold compress." Pema kissed him lightly on the cheek, and then stood to retake her place at the table. "I can't have you getting sick on us."

Korra shot a meaningful glance at Tenzin, and then looked to Bolin. "I'd be happy if you'd come train with me tomorrow," she said brightly. "Pabu would love to spend time with you."

"No, thanks," Bolin replied shortly.

Tenzin cleared his throat, commanding the attention of the table. "It's healthy to exercise during times of mourning," he said, picking up on Korra's obvious lead. "And Pema is right that you've been looking ill."

Bolin perked up with realization, glaring daggers between Tenzin and Korra. "You _told_ him, didn't you? That I can't bend," he said, more incredulous than angry, and stood. And though Korra and Tenzin both stared at him rather wide eyed, Bolin didn't hold back. This was more emotion than he'd felt in days. "Why would you do that? Why would you ever think that was a good idea?" With Korra sufficiently shamed, he rounded on Tenzin. At the sudden angry motion Pabu jumped from his shoulder and skittered to safety. "I appreciate that you're letting me stay in your house, but I don't need any of your special airbender spirituality nonsense." He walked to the door and turned back as he opened it. "I'll be in my room."

He left and slammed the door behind him. As Bolin stood in the hall, leaning against the door and feeling somewhat ashamed of his outburst he heard Tenzin clear his throat and say, quite dryly. "Well, that went well."

With the slightest disdain bubbling in his stomach, Bolin stalked off to his room.


	2. Acceptance

Later that evening, feeling ashamed for betraying his trust, Korra found Bolin already changed into his nightclothes and lying atop the covers with his back to the dormitory door. Upon entering the room Pabu scampered from her shoulder and curled up at the foot of the bed, but Bolin did not turn.

The room was as much a disaster as could be expected for how few possessions he had brought. His casual jacket was half under the bed, one shoe near the door, and the other in the opposite corner. His dress clothes were draped over a chair, rumpled and discarded without a thought, and the promised tea and cold compress sat disused on the bedside table. The tea had gone cold, and the compress dripped pathetically onto the floor.

"I'm sorry," Korra said. "I shouldn't have told anyone, I was just worried."

When Bolin didn't respond she approached the bed and looked down at him, afraid she would wake him from much needed sleep. But he was awake with his brow furrowed in apparent anger, jaw set again, tendon working as he ground his teeth in frustration. He stared at some unknown point beyond the window; lost in thought somewhere out in the bright lights of Republic City. She sat on the edge of the bed quietly for a time.

"You would tell someone if you weren't okay, wouldn't you?" she asked.

"What makes you think I wouldn't?" Bolin snapped.

"Well, the way you've been acting for the last week for a start," Korra replied with just as much heat as Bolin. She could match his temper easily and she knew it. "Everyone is worried about you, not just me, not just Asami. You won't talk, you won't eat, you _can't bend_…"

"It'll come back…"

"Has this happened before?"

"No…"

Korra sighed. She wanted to ask how he could be so sure but all Bolin's pretension was gone, faded with that last syllable, and his face had gone blank again. She couldn't bring herself to rub his nose in false pride now. He'd seemed so genuinely upset. Had it all been a show?

"Will you lay with me for a while?" Bolin asked timidly. "Just for the company?"

Korra nodded though he didn't see it. "Where do you want me?"

He patted the bed in front of him, and Korra settled in to the sound of Pabu's agitated chittering. When she seemed comfortable Bolin draped his arm round her middle and cozied up to her, nestled his forehead into the back of her neck. Within moments she felt a subtle shudder pass through him and warm wetness against her skin.

"It's not healthy to keep all this in," said the Avatar gently.

Bolin shook his head, though whether it was in agreement or disagreement Korra didn't know. "I think I'm just tired," he said without the slightest waver in his voice. If he was indeed crying he was good at hiding it. "I haven't slept well."

Korra nodded. "You looked tired today."

"I am tired."

"Why not go to sleep?"

Another shudder, but this time she felt his muscles tense in protest. She'd seen this suppression before in his expressions. Korra hadn't realized that the reaction was a full-body experience.

"I should never have looked at him," said Bolin in an anguished whisper. "I don't know what I expected. Beifong warned me, but I looked, and now every time I close my eyes that's what I see. He was just a pile of meat—it didn't look like him at all, all burned and red and bloody. And the smell…"

Korra felt the corners of her eyes warming and closed her eyes against unwanted tears. She felt nauseous. "Do you want to meditate with me?"

"No."

It wasn't the answer she expected. "It might help."

Bolin shook his head again, and this time Korra was certain that it was in disagreement. "I wish Opal had been here," he said. "But at the same time I'm glad she wasn't. I'd hate for her to see me like this."

"But it's okay for me to see you like this?"

"You're the Avatar. It's your job to help people."

Korra grimaced at the truth. Since the news broke she had relied heavily on her status as Avatar to keep herself grounded. Prior to Bolin's arrival she had meditated for hours under the statue of Avatar Aang to convince herself that the Avatar wasn't the only spirit that reincarnated. She wanted to believe that Mako was being reborn, even if she didn't truly know it. Deep in her heart was understanding that no matter how much she wanted to mourn and cry and wallow in the loss, she had to provide stability for her friends, particularly Bolin. If she lost her composure now…

"I'm your _friend_, so it's my job to help _you_," Korra corrected pointedly. "Don't get the two things mixed up."

She felt a smile crack against the back of her neck and he hugged her tight against him. Then she felt another shudder. Heard an almost imperceptible sob. She watched Pabu perk his head up thoughtfully to regard the two and crawl up her leg, his soft footfalls tickling her skin. The fire ferret settled on the pillow above their heads with a soft whine.

They lay that way for a long time, the comfortable silence interrupted occasionally by sobs let slip or a sharp intake of breath. Every once in a while Bolin would pull Korra closer, so tight sometimes that she had to hold her breath. An hour or more later the sobs stopped, the restlessness ceased, and his breath warmed her neck in slow and steady intervals.

He slept.

Overcome, Korra cried until she joined him.

Next morning the male dormitory rang with cries of, "Girl in the boy's room! Girl in the boy's room!" and Korra woke with a start. Meelo and Rohan were running full tilt down the hallway with their voices echoing loud and clear through the compound.

It took her a minute to remember where she was, to remember what the gentle pressure against her stomach was, but she felt warm and comfortable and surprisingly well rested after such an emotionally charged night. Apparently she and Bolin, once asleep, had gone the whole night without moving at all. Tenderly she removed Bolin's arm from around her waist, sat up, and stretched. He still slept soundly, relaxed and apparently at peace with Pabu curled round the back of his neck.

She watched him thoughtfully until Meelo and Rohan came running back, this time quietly and with Pema in tow. The boys wore matching enormous lopsided grins, and Pema looked a bit scandalized. With a timid wave Korra welcomed the airbenders into the room and motioned for quiet.

"You were in here all night?" Pema asked with the slightest indignation.

Korra nodded and slid off the foot of the bed. "It seemed like the right thing to do," she said and thought to add that Bolin had both cried and slept in healthy amounts because of it, but decided otherwise. It was his decision to tell.

"Well, he's got a letter from Tenzin's mother," Pema added. "And it's getting close to noon."

Surprised, Korra looked out the window. "I'll get him around. Is there breakfast?"

"Lunch," Pema replied as she ushered the children from the room, but she turned last minute and added, "I won't tell Tenzin that you spent the night together, but I make no promises for the children."

Korra blushed and turned away. "Thanks," she said and moved to the bed.

It took some effort to rouse Bolin, so deep was he sleeping, and as he dressed she helped make the bed while wondering about the letter Pema had mentioned. It was rare for anyone to hear from Katara, even Tenzin, so a note to Bolin seemed oddly out of place. Still, news of Mako's death had spread fast and it seemed only right that letters of condolence should come from those unable to travel.

"Pema said lunch will be ready soon," Korra said as she slapped the pillow atop the freshly smoothed bedclothes. Then she turned and regarded her friend with the most genuine smile she could muster. It felt fake.

He looked at her perplexedly and zipped his brown jacket, ruffled his hair a bit, and motioned the okay for Pabu to resume his customary position. The fire ferret obliged with a chatter of satisfaction, and Bolin spoke as he patted Pabu on the head. "Thank you for staying with me."

"Don't mention it."

"I won't," he said and shot a furtive glance Korra's way. When next he spoke his voice was slightly stern. "But please don't say anything to anyone. And I mean that this time."

"Well they're going to know I was in here," Korra replied flippantly, "Rohan and Meelo were screaming it all over the house before you woke up."

"That's not what I mean. I don't want everyone knowing that I—"

"That you cried?" Korra asked with disbelief. "Honestly it would make people feel _better_ if they knew—it made _me_ feel better to see it—but if you don't want me to tell anyone I won't."

Bolin nodded.

"Lunch?" Korra prompted.

Bolin nodded again and the two exited to the dining room. When they entered they found that the rest of the compound had already gathered and were waiting for lunch to be served. All eyes turned toward the awkward pair as they took their respective seats. Korra watched as Tenzin gazed over the top of the _Republic City Press_ at her. His eyes bored into her appraisingly before moving along and coming to rest, almost benevolently, on Bolin.

* * *

><p>"You've got a letter here," Tenzin said and handed over a small square envelope. "It's from my mother."<p>

Bolin received the letter and examined it for a moment. Katara's handwriting was artistic considering her age, and the address was scrawled in midnight blue ink: _Bolin, care of Tenzin, Air Temple Island, Republic City._

"She wasn't sure of your address, so she sent it with another letter to me."

Bolin opened the envelope and read silently:

_Dearest Bolin; I hope this note finds you in good health and spirit. I send my deepest regrets that I am unable to attend your brother's funeral. However, I hope to do my part by offering an escape to you and your friends should you find you need spiritual guidance or rest in these troubled times. I would be happy to host all of you, and Tonraq and Senna have been desperate to see Korra besides. Please respond as you are able and I will make all the arrangements for lodgings when you arrive. If you are unable to come, please remember to take care of yourself in body and mind. I know what it's like to lose a dear brother too soon. Yours most sincerely, Katara._

When finished, Bolin folded the letter and looked dubiously to Tenzin. "She's invited us to visit," he said, "in case I need 'spiritual guidance.'"

"Did she?" Tenzin asked with interest, and Bolin nodded. "That's not an invitation she extends lightly."

By this time air acolytes began ushering in plates of food from the kitchen, and the airbender children squealed happily over their lunches.

"Do you suppose you'll take her up on the offer?" Tenzin continued as he folded the newspaper and tucked in to his meal. "It would be no trouble, I suppose, as long as Raiko would let us around the travel restriction. I imagine he'd be happy to be rid of us."

Bolin stared at the plate set in front of him. Brown mottled cubes rested beneath a sauce of crushed herbed tomatoes with a pile of only slightly lighter brown rice to the side. The earthbender felt suddenly nauseous.

"Are you all right?" Pema asked, noting the sickly shade of green he had taken on. "It's just fried tofu. We thought you might need the protein."

_It looks like Mako_, he wanted to say, but instead he just stammered stupidly. _Red and slimy, patches of skin. _His stomach lurched and he covered his mouth with his hand. He felt suddenly faint.

Before Bolin could retch, Korra reached deftly across the table to swap plates with him. When Bolin looked to her in thanks she offered no reply at all, but ate greedily instead, clearing away the unappetizing food as quickly as possible.

Pema apologized for what she apparently thought was a simple oversight. "I thought you liked fried tofu, I'm sorry," she said, but her eyebrows raised happily when Bolin tentatively ate the first of the conspicuously non-red vegetables on his new plate, the color returning slowly to his face.

Tenzin cleared his throat. "So, the letter?"

"I want to go visit Gran-Gran," said Jinora. "I think we ought to go," she appealed to Bolin. "A vacation would do all of us good right now, and would get us out of helping rebuild the city for a while."

Bolin nearly choked. He had completely forgotten about the rebuilding of Republic City. He had offered, perhaps stupidly, to assist in the construction of new buildings and infrastructure after the incident with Kuvira left downtown in rubble several weeks prior. Earthbenders were being recruited in staggering numbers and wages had been so promising that he couldn't refuse even if he didn't need the work. Lin Beifong had offered him a particularly high pay grade, knowing his value as an earth and lava bender. But then came the explosion and all thoughts of work were blown from his mind.

"I'd like to go, I think," he said at length, "but I promised Beifong I would help with new construction. I signed a contract almost immediately when the jobs opened."

Tenzin scoffed. "Lin will let you out of your contract, considering the circumstances. Otherwise I'm sure she'll postpone its start date until you're in better health."

Bolin looked to Asami and Korra. "What do you think?"

Asami grinned. "I wouldn't mind another vacation," she said. "It'll be good to clear our minds a little."

Korra nodded as well, her mouth full of half-chewed tofu squares. "It'd be nice to see my parents," she said, muffled.

Bolin looked to Tenzin for next steps.

"I'll speak with Raiko this afternoon and arrange our departure. Pema, if you'd be so kind as to phone Tonraq and Senna to let them know we'll be on the way…"

"Of course, dear."

Lunch finished and each went separate ways: Tenzin to the city to speak with President Raiko about travel restrictions; Pema to phone the Southern Water Tribe and inform them of their arrival; the children to do their daily chores; and Bolin, Korra, and Asami to the yard for Korra's daily training.

"I still find it hard to believe you can't bend," Asami said and took a seat beside him on the stairs. From her tone of voice Bolin gleaned that Asami harbored no resentment toward him for keeping Korra away the night prior, and Bolin found this slightly surprising. The two watched Korra display an acrobatic show of airbending with her face screwed up in concentration. "Have you tried?"

"A little. It just doesn't feel right."

"Well, why don't you try again?" Asami picked up a loose, palm sized stone from the ground beside her and held it out with a smile. "Maybe things will be better today."

He took the stone and rolled it over in his hand for a while, uncertain of what to do with it.

"Metalbend it."

Bolin looked at Asami, temporarily insulted. "You know I can't do that."

"That's not what I mean," she said, laughing. Then she took his hands and positioned them left over right, palms facing each other. "When you _tried_ to learn metalbending this was how they taught you to do it; a little bit at a time."

"Oh." Bolin felt a bit stupid for jumping to conclusions. All she had wanted him to do was reshape the stone.

With great concentration he flattened his right hand and flexed the fingers of his left. The stone shuddered a bit, but remained unchanged and resting even after several seconds. Bolin let out a great breath of frustration, tossed the stone aside, and dropped his hands to his lap.

"It's no use."

By now Korra had stopped her acrobatics and was watching them from the yard. "Maybe you need some pressure under fire!" She called gleefully, and with a stomp and upward sweep of her arms raised a sizable block of earth from the ground. "Heads up!"

The earth came rocketing toward Asami and Bolin with unexpected speed. Asami ducked, but Bolin played along. Perhaps Korra was right: he had always bent best when the stakes were high. He threw up his hands as normal, ready to deflect the rock or catch it and throw it back, but the thing didn't slow and didn't change trajectory. He had barely enough time to cover his face with his arms before it bowled him over with a grunt.

By the time he had righted himself and surveyed the damage to his left arm Korra was beside him with healing water in hand. "I'm so sorry," she stammered. "I wasn't thinking."

Bolin rolled up his sleeve and grimaced at the wound. The skin of his forearm had split and already a bruise had begun to rise. "What did you do that for?" he snapped, his anger amplified by the sharp pain spreading up his arm. But Korra applied the water and worked it into the wound with care, and what pain was there eased. With an enormous sigh, Bolin recanted. "Don't worry about it. We all know I bend best under pressure. Didn't learn I was an earthbender until Mako and I—" startled, he stopped short and sighed again. "But lavabending is useful."

"I wouldn't worry too much," Asami said. "We'll go visit Katara and she'll get you sorted out."

Korra nodded and removed the water from Bolin's now injury-free arm. "She's the best healer I've ever met. If anyone can fix you up it's her."

_But this isn't an injury,_ Bolin thought. _I'm just blocked_. Then he perked up and looked between his two friends. "That's it," he said with sudden clarity. "It's like I've been chi blocked."

"I'm sure she can fix it," Korra repeated.

Bolin, Korra, and Asami spent the afternoon together in leisure and took dinner in Bolin's room in the male dormitory over a halfhearted game of Pai Sho. The girls helped him clean a bit, encouraged him to continue his attempts to bend, and offered what comfort they could when sudden waves of emotion washed over him.

Then, just after dark, Tenzin returned to the compound bearing the first good news anyone had heard in a week. "I spoke with both Raiko and Lin," he said to the three. "Raiko will allow us out of the city as long as we provide a list of names and destinations, and requires escort out of Republic City boundaries."

Korra and Asami smiled wide and said as one, "Great!"

Tenzin looked to Bolin. "And there was no question about your contract with Lin. She said you can do whatever you'd like until you feel ready to return for work, but when you come back she's placing you in her special projects division."

"That sounds like Lin," Bolin replied flatly.

"We can leave as soon as tomorrow," Tenzin continued. "Whenever you all are ready. We'll take Oogi."

Then Tenzin left, and Korra and Asami practically buzzed with excitement.

"This is great!" Korra exclaimed brightly. "Bolin, you're going to be healed by the best waterbender in history!"

Bolin felt nothing. Perhaps a slight twinge of guilt for his lack of excitement. "It's not really healing, I'm not hurt."

"Then you're going to be receiving _spiritual guidance_ from the best healer in history!"

Asami stood and looked out the window. "You get some rest here," she said. "We'll get your things packed and ready to go so we can leave as soon as possible, okay?"

"There isn't much to pack," Bolin said.

Asami grinned at him. "Then it won't take very long."


	3. Awake

For innumerable hours a haze of semiconsciousness came and went in intervals without boundary. Horrifying dreams of the explosion at Ba Sing Se bled into a reality more empty and silent than pure oblivion. It was a reality that Mako did not care to cling to; he had neither the energy nor the focus to decide whether it was better to dream terrifying dreams or suffer a reality void of the senses. Often sleep overcame him without his knowledge.

Periodically he would feel hands pressed against his skin, poking and prodding, tugging and scraping, but these feelings came without pain or discomfort. He believed them to be dreams or delirious hallucinations void of image or sound.

Then all at once, Mako snapped back to pure and unfettered consciousness, opening his eyes to a world of absolute dark. He breathed deeply, fought rising anxiety, felt cold metal beneath his bare back, and strained to remember how he had gotten there. When he closed his eyes he could see the flash, the enormous fireball rolling out from Ba Sing Se's crumbling royal palace, and then blackness. He recalled hearing screams, feeling overwhelming heat, Wu clinging desperately to his shirt as he tried futilely to bend the flames. His dreams had seeped into reality.

Deep breaths quickened as terrible memories flooded into his mind. He could hear it all but could not recall seeing anything. And now all was cold and dark and noiseless: He was insulated. _They think I died_, he thought. _They've buried me. They've buried me alive. No, no, no. _

Frantically, Mako called out, "Help me! Help! Get me out of here! Bolin!"

His heart jumped to his throat and he choked on the words, suddenly aware of a pounding pressure in his head, a sharp pain in his temples. He felt the vibration of speech in his throat, felt his mouth moving to form words but the sound never reached his ears. He squinted his eyes, gingerly touched his closed lids, and opened them to blackness again. He screamed, terrified.

"Someone help me!" He cried, and even as his voice broke from exertion he felt only vague vibrations. "Get me out of here! Bolin!"

Hot tears burned his cheeks, and he thought to punch out against the confines of the casket, but to what end? He was a firebender, not an earthbender. If they had buried him he would never be able to get out. If he firebent against the metal it would serve only to roast him alive.

_No, no, no, it can't end like this. This can't be right. Bolin wouldn't have buried me. This can't be right, no, no, no. _

Mako tried to call out again but the words caught fast. The tears were too thick; he was breathing too hard. Panic. His head swam; he swooned. Panic. He was panting; hyperventilating. _This can't be. They wouldn't have buried me. I'm not dead!_

He sobbed and desperately punched forward—perhaps if he pounded hard enough against the box someone would hear him—but his fist caught only air and he paused, his chest heaving. He drew an enormous breath, held it, and reached cautiously upward. He waved his arms about and felt cold air against his bare skin.

_I'm not in a box,_ he thought. _Mausoleum? No. No, there's not a mausoleum that would take me. Where am I?_

"Help!" His horror was now compounded by confusion. "Somebody help me!"

He pushed himself to sit and cried out against searing pain in his palms. _Burned_, he thought. _I burned myself_. The sensation was familiar: He had burned himself many times before as a budding firebender. The pain was negotiable. The fear was insurmountable. He screamed again.

Suddenly there were hands on him—many pairs of frigid, bony, clinical hands—and Mako flailed against them in panic. They pressed against his chest and arms and shoulders with such force that he had no choice but to lie back, and they held him there with so much pressure it hurt.

"Help me!" he screamed. "Help me!"

Then he felt a finger on his chest that began to slowly trace letters. C-A-L-M. C-A-L-M. S-A-F-E. S-A-F-E. The pattern repeated over and over and over until Mako recognized the words, but he could not stop the adrenaline.

"Where am I? Who are you? Where is Bolin? Help me! Why can't I—" He slapped the hands away, frustrated.

He felt a prick in his shoulder and grimaced. The letters continued to trace icily against his chest. C-A-L-M. S-A-F-E. He tried to argue but his head felt fuzzy. He felt suddenly faint.

* * *

><p>When next Mako woke he was reclined in a warm and comfortable chair, and was not surrounded by pitch darkness. When he opened his eyes he saw shapes; blurred blobs of color that moved around before him, but of which he could discern no detail. He found small comfort that he could hear better than he could see, though his left ear pounded and rang with tinnitus. His right picked up fuzzy voices that sounded far away and muffled. He could just barely identify the sound of his own rasped breathing.<p>

A brown figure stopped before him and bent low. Mako knew at once that this was a person, dark haired and light skinned, and the closer the person got to him the more detail he could see.

"Can you hear me?" said the man, for it was indeed a man, and Mako could just barely understand the words he spoke. The man smelled of fire.

Mako nodded timidly.

"Can you see me?"

"Not very well," Mako replied. "Who are you?"

Quicker than Mako could react, the figure struck him. A swift backhand took him across the face and Mako tasted blood.

"You won't ask questions," said the figure, bending low again. "You will _answer_ questions."

Mako blinked against the pain and sat confused, waiting.

"Are you a firebender?"

He nodded.

"Are you able to bend lightning?"

He nodded again.

"Are you a combustion bender?"

"No."

The man took pause. Mako noted that the figure's head turned slightly. "Are you loyal to Firelord Izumi or any member of the Fire Nation cabinet?"

"No," Mako said and he tilted his head to the right. The ringing in his left was painful. He winced. "I'm from Republic City."

Another slap.

"Do you pledge your loyalty to the Democratic Society of Firebenders and swear allegiance to its leader on pain of death?"

"What?" Mako said, disoriented and uncertain that he had heard the words correctly. "The what?"

"Do you pledge your loyalty to the Democratic Society of Firebenders and swear allegiance to its leader?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The figure looked again to the side and issued an order to another. "Kill him."

"Wait!" Mako cried. "Wait! Yes! Yes!"

The figure looked Mako straight in the face. "Very good."

"Please," Mako begged, "I need to know..."

The figure didn't slap him again, which Mako took as permission to press on.

"Where am I? What happened?"

"We saved you," said the man. "We liberated you from the servitude of the Earth King, Wu."

"What? Why can't I hear? Why can't I see?"

"Unfortunate byproducts of the explosion that freed you," the figure replied, louder and more slowly this time, as if he had just been made aware of this issue. "Your eyesight will return in time, as you've no doubt noticed. Your hearing may not recover beyond what it has."

Stunned, Mako sat. He squinted at the figure and tried to focus on the images.

"I am Guan, leader of the Society and orchestrator of the liberation of firebenders in Ba Sing Se."

Mako's stomach dropped.

"You'll rest until your eyesight is fully restored. Until then, you will continue to be confined to a room in our compound."

"How long has it been? How long have I been unconscious?"

"That's not your concern. We'll speak again."

The blob of a man walked away, followed by a contingent of other blobs. Mako watched them to the door, or what he imagined was the door through the shapeless blurs. His stomach squeezed in knots and a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. A damp cloth wiped it away. Mako recoiled.

"Shush," said a woman beside him, and when Mako looked it appeared that she was comfortably seated. "You don't need to be afraid. My name is Toru, I've been your caretaker."

Mako squinted. The woman was dark haired and dark skinned, but he could not see much else. She dipped the towel into a basin atop a table beside her and then continued dabbing at his face even as he stared. She appeared to be smiling politely.

"Forgive Guan," she said loudly, leaning toward him. "He can be abrasive."

"Where am I?" Mako still heard his own voice as muffled and fuzzy.

"Unfortunately, I'm unable to answer your questions. I heard them all just now; I've been here the whole time. I'm sorry but I'll need to ask you a few things for the records while you're awake and aware. What is your name?"

"Why should I answer your questions if you won't answer mine?"

Toru sighed. "I'm sorry you had to come to us under such terrible circumstances, but there were other firebenders that needed liberation from Ba Sing Se. Chaos was a necessity. I promise that all of your questions will be answered in due time, but not until we know you can be trusted and will act as a supportive member of our society."

"What society?"

"What is your name?"

Rage bubbled in Mako's stomach. "What society?" he demanded, more sternly this time.

"Guan told you. We are the Democratic Society of Firebenders. Now, tell me your name. It's only fair, as I told you mine."

"Mako."

Toru scribbled something on a pad of paper on the table. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mako. Where are you from?"

"You said you heard the whole conversation," he said, irritated. "I'm from Republic City."

"Your vocation?"

"What?"

She leaned closer to him and spoke louder. "What do you do for a living, Mako? What is your job?"

His face screwed up with confusion. "I'm a cop," he stammered. She continued scribbling, and his eyes shot futilely to the paper. "I'm a detective."

"For the Republic City force?"

He nodded, eyes still on the paper. He couldn't read the writing. Toru paused and looked to him, then back to her work. It seemed she was reading from a script and filling in blanks when required. This was no casual conversation.

"Why were you guarding Earth King Wu?"

"Because that's the job I was assigned by my boss."

"Do you owe allegiance to Earth King Wu?"

"What?" This time the question was asked not because Mako didn't hear, but because he did not understand. "He's not the King any more. He stepped down. We were just overseeing the elections. And I'm not part of any nation. I'm from Republic City—it's its own separate…" Mako groped for the word, "republic."

"Do you have a family, Mako? Wife or children, brothers, sisters, mother and father?"

"Do I have to answer?"

Toru nodded.

"I have a brother," Mako said at length. Thinking about Bolin was strangely painful. How long had he been away? Had word got back to Republic City that he had survived? Did anyone know he had survived?

"Mako?" Toru pressed. "Are you all right?"

His gaze had drifted to the floor. He blinked hard as a sharp pain shot behind his eyes. "Fine."

"What is your brother's name and vocation?"

"I don't want to talk to you about him."

"You've got to answer the questions, Mako. You want to make a good first impression, don't you? If you don't answer the questions Guan will doubt your loyalty to the society."

Mako stood, irate. "I don't care about the stupid society!" He had started at a shout, but by the end of his statement his voice had diminished to a sickly whisper. He felt his blood pressure plummeting. His legs trembled and he collapsed back into the chair. His skin felt clammy.

"What is your brother's name and vocation," Toru repeated clinically, with another dab to Mako's forehead.

"Bolin," he said, resigned. "He's…" Mako stopped to think. Bolin had done so many things—pro bending, movers, begging, stealing, nothing—Mako couldn't honestly say what he was doing now, but there was the pending expansion of Republic City. "He'll be working on construction."

"Is he a bender?"

"Earthbender."

Toru seemed to perk up, and she looked at Mako thoughtfully. "Your names seem familiar, I think I've heard of you on the radio."

"We did a stint in pro bending."

"The Fire Ferrets!" she exclaimed happily. "Your team had a heck of a season a few years back, didn't you? With the Avatar? Excellent run, it was. A lot of people were sad to see you all retire."

Uncertain what to say, Mako uttered, "Thanks," under his breath.

"Does Bolin owe allegiance to Earth King Wu, Firelord Izumi, or either water tribe?"

"No." Mako regretted that things had gotten back to business so quickly.

"Does he know where you went with Earth King Wu?"

"He knows I went to Ba Sing Se, if that's what you mean. And stop calling him _Earth King Wu_. He's not the King any more."

"Any other relations I should know about?"

Mako thought briefly of his grandmother and cousins, still in Republic City, but he didn't feel close enough to them to suggest that their involvement in his life was of any consequence. He thought of Korra and Asami and suppressed a grimace. Certainly their new relationship had left no room for him. He wondered if they even remembered him.

"No," he said finally.

Toru scribbled on the paper for a while. Then she capped her pen and stood with a bounce. "Let me help you up, and slowly this time. I'll escort you to the healing center for your next session."

"Session of what?" Mako asked as Toru grasped his upper arm. He stood with difficulty and leaned against her.

"Healing," she replied, "I already told you this." She began to walk, easing Mako forward at a slow but comfortable pace until he stumbled clumsily, his left hip connecting hard with a table he'd not seen. "It may be best to close your eyes for now. This must be disorienting for you."

Mako nodded and obliged. He followed her only half-willingly, tired and modestly depressed, through several rooms where he could hear happy conversation. How strange his waking had been this time around; how strange that the Guan character he first met was so very different from Toru, who seemed to care about his well being at least superficially.

At last Toru situated Mako in another chair, this one hard and cold, and he watched her blob of color move to the far corner of the room to retrieve something. She returned with something in her hands, pulled a small square table to his side, and sat down.

"We'll begin with your eyes," she said. "Please close them."

Mako obeyed and in moments felt cool, wet relief around his face, seeping into his muscles, clearing away the pressure in his brain. He knew the sensation as healing water but had only ever had it applied to muscles cramps and superficial cuts. This penetrated deeper.

"Open your eyes."

With difficulty Mako opened his eyes against the coldness of the water. He saw the room around him in sharper focus than last time though fine details remained blurred through the thick swirling liquid. He blinked against the tingling sensation until Toru told him to close his eyes again, and he did so with relief. After another few minutes she pulled the water away and dabbed at his face with a towel.

"You're a waterbender," he said quietly.

"I'm a healer," Toru replied cheerfully. "My parents were from the north tribe, but I'm from Republic City like you."  
>This felt strange to him. "Why is a waterbender working with the Democratic Whatever of Firebenders?"<p>

Toru said nothing for a moment and moved to sit behind him. "I'm going to work on your ears," she said, her voice suddenly slightly frigid. "This will be uncomfortable. Relax as much as you're able."

The water muted what little ambient noise Mako had been able to hear moments prior. He thought absently of how strange all this was. Toru had seemed happy, at least on surface levels, until he had questioned her motives. No one could argue how strange it was for a waterbender to be working for a group of firebenders, especially with the way Guan had presented the situation. He did not know where he was or what was happening around him but a sinking feeling in his stomach told him that no good could come as a result.


	4. Healing Part 1: Tough Love

In all his wildest dreams Bolin had never imagined how relaxing a pool of icy water could be, even while being prodded, manipulated, and questioned by a woman four times his age. Almost as soon as Bolin had disembarked from the sky bison, Oogi, onto South Water Tribe land, Katara had insisted upon beginning the healing. While Korra, Tenzin, and the others were settling in she had escorted him to her tiny healing hut, encouraged him to dress down as far as he was comfortable, and helped him into the pool.

"As an earthbender it may be uncomfortable for you to be submerged like this," she had warned, "but I assure you that this is the best way to begin your spiritual healing."

Bolin insisted that he would be fine—pro bending had put him in the drink more times than he cared to count—and any discomfort came not from the water itself but instead from its frigid temperature. Still he settled in and rested his head against the edge of the tub.

Katara bent the water around him for what felt like hours—in reality minutes—before she began the questions.

"How are you feeling?" was the first. Katara's voice sounded far away and as gentle as the water around him.

What Bolin meant to be a coherent reply came out as a groan of utter bliss.

"Korra mentioned that you've been unable to earthbend," Katara continued casually. Bolin knew he should have felt indignant that the Avatar had told someone else, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "I'm going to ask you some questions and I'd like you to answer them as honestly as you can."

Another grunt.

"Please understand that these questions will be difficult, but everything you say to me will be in confidence. Unless you threaten to harm someone I'll keep anything you tell me secret forever."

"That's nice."

Katara smiled as she bent the water. "Are you happy?"

Bolin nodded without hesitation.

"Are you always happy?"

This time the nod came slower, but resolutely.

"How was your relationship with your brother?"

Bolin peeked at Katara dubiously. Her questions were beginning to ruin the calm. "It was fine. We got along well. I loved him."

"Close your eyes and relax." She paused for a while as he complied. "How is your relationship with Asami?"

"Fine."

"Korra?"

"Fine." Bolin's calm had flown his mind entirely and was being slowly replaced by absolute irritation.

Katara sighed and stopped bending the water. "Do you understand how our bending works?"

"Well enough to do it," he replied shortly. He couldn't be certain if he was more upset that she had stopped bending the water—and as a result it was going cold again—or because her questions were too personal for his liking. Nobody had ever asked him these things before.

Katara began bending again, speaking slowly as she waved her arms. "Benders are gifted with special attunements to the elements, attunements which align through our chakras. When our chakras are in sync we are able to bend to our fullest potential, but when they fall out of sync our bending grows weak."

"So what?" Bolin had not closed his eyes this time and instead watched Katara intently. He wished she would stop talking.

Again, Katara stopped bending and this time she gave Bolin a stern expression. When she spoke, however, her tone remained cordial if not motherly. She reminded him a bit of Pema. "Your chakras are misaligned. My questions are designed to test the strength of your spiritual connections, to release anxiety, to _center_ you." She placed emphasis on the word as if it should have carried significant meaning, but Bolin found none. "Let me start again, with more transparency. Close your eyes and sit straight."

Bolin closed his eyes and sat straight.

"The base chakra is the foundation of your spirit. It centers around familial connections, and it is blocked by fear" she reached into the water and pressed one palm firmly against the base of Bolin's spine. He twitched slightly at the unexpected touch but made no move to pull away as Katara continued. "If these connections are strong, your base chakra is stable and can support a healthy spiritual system. If this chakra is weak…" she let the words drift away, paused, and removed her hands from the water before beginning again. "How was your childhood?"

"Terrible."

"Were your base needs met?"

"No."

"How was your relationship with your parents?"

"I don't remember much."

The barrage of questions irritated him. Katara reached into the water and pressed her palm flat against his stomach, atop his naval, and this time he pulled back slightly. "The sacral chakra deals with problems of trust, individuality, and pleasure. Do you feel guilty that you don't remember your parents?"

At first Bolin did not know how to respond, but he felt his blood pressure spike dangerously. He wondered if Katara could feel his reaction through the water but she didn't stop bending. A heartbeat after the question Bolin opened his eyes and he glared daggers at her, repressing every urge he had to tell her off. He had hoped the expression would stop her from further questioning, but the look on Katara's face remained impassive. The healer moved on without fuss.

"Is it easy for you to stand up for yourself?"

"I'm a decent earthbender."

"Let me rephrase the question. How easy is it for you to express your beliefs? Will you tell someone if they are doing something you believe is wrong?"

Bolin hesitated. "Usually."

Katara pressed her hand against Bolin's chest then, and when she continued Bolin could hear well-restrained frustration in her voice, as though she was addressing a very stubborn child. "The solar plexus chakra deals with issues of willpower and self-confidence. Are you confident?"

Again Bolin hesitated, thinking of all the times he had had to give himself pep talks in times of pressure. He had lost count of the number of instances during which he had questioned his ability to follow through when people needed him, the number of times he had said or done something stupid or silly to redirect attention away from his self-perceived inadequacy. He felt his frustration shifting targets. No longer was he angry with Katara; he had somehow managed to direct the anger inward. Bolin pushed the feelings back and breathed deep to calm himself.

"Are you afraid of change?"

Before he even realized what he was doing Bolin was on his feet, dripping with all the relaxation gone from him. Blood pounded behind his eyes as he leered down at Katara, who had let slip the tiniest gasp at his sudden movement. The look on her face softened his anger just slightly; he hadn't meant to frighten her. "Look, I'm sorry," he said carefully, "but I can't handle this right now. I don't understand what any of this has to do with Mako, and I don't understand how making me feel bad about myself is going to get my bending back."

Katara stood, her composure apparently regained, and produced a towel. "We don't need to do this again," she said genially as Bolin dried and dressed. "I've found out all I need to know."

Bolin pulled on his parka and thought on the words, his anger melting away into confusion and a bit of regret. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Katara smiled as she ushered him to the door. "There's no gentle way of describing how badly misaligned your chakras are. It's a wonder you ever learned to bend, considering your deep-seated problems."

Bolin hung his head, slightly hurt by the fact laid bare. It wasn't often he had time to contemplate his own skeletons, in fact he rarely did so at all, but to know that Katara had seen them so clearly and so quickly made him feel somehow marginally violated.

"Rest for tonight," Katara continued soothingly. "We'll continue this tomorrow."

"I'm sorry," Bolin said. He made no effort to mask his shame.

"Not to worry," she replied, escorting him to the parlor with a smile. "You're the second recipient of the _not as big of a jerk as you could have been_ award."

Bolin eyed her, his face screwed up with confusion.

Katara's smile brightened. "Considering all you've been through, you could have turned out much worse. May I walk with you?"

Before he could respond that he'd rather go it alone, Katara hooked her hand under his arm and led him into the night. He couldn't bring himself to say anything to the kind old woman, and Katara seemed content to pass the short trek to Korra's parents' house in silence anyway. When they arrived on the stoop Katara offered him one last warm smile, which Bolin returned only feebly, and he opened the door for her.

* * *

><p>Katara stepped inside the chief's modest home to greetings from a dozen happy faces, and Bolin entered behind her.<p>

"Hey, Bo—oh…" Korra tried to greet the earthbender happily, but he walked past the gathering without a word. As he passed, the fire ferret, Pabu, sprang from her lap to his shoulder with a chitter. Then Bolin entered into the room he had been assigned and closed the door. The Avatar turned to Katara with concern. "Things went well, then?"

"I had actually hoped to have a word with you," Katara said after sending round her greetings and patting Ikki and Meelo on the head. She smiled warmly at Tenzin. It had been too long since she'd seen her family, but now was not the time for that kind of leisure. "Is there a place we might speak in private?"

Korra nodded with a slightly confused look and led Katara away. The Avatar opened the door to her own bedroom, pulled a chair away from the desk beside the door and motioned for Katara to sit. Korra took a place opposite her on the bed and waited. Katara watched Korra move with interest, scrutinizing her every motion, her every facial expression. This was the second Avatar Katara had seen grow up, and the resemblance Korra occasionally bore to Aang was a bit painful. When Korra's expression shifted to genuine concern Katara broke from her reverie and spoke authoritatively. "I need a favor," she said. "I need to borrow your polar bear dog."

Korra quirked her eyebrow. "Sure," she said. "For what?"

With a sigh, Katara explained, "Things didn't go well, and I've dealt with enough earthbenders in my life to know that the lot of them, no matter how tender-hearted and kind they seem outwardly, are as stubborn as a moose-lion."

"That bad, huh?"

"Your friend is deeply troubled," Katara said, resigned. At once she didn't want to reveal the magnitude of Bolin's problems, yet she could not hide it in good conscience. Katara had not seen someone so thoroughly distraught since Aang's struggle with Firelord Ozai. "You know as well as I do that spiritual energy flows like a stream through our bodies, keeping us in balance and allowing us to bend," she explained deliberately. "When the debris of life blocks our streams, it often takes only a few items knocked loose to break through. But… To say that Bolin's stream is blocked would be understatement. It may take a little more force to knock things loose."

"So why do you need Naga, then? I mean, I'm happy to give her over, but—"

Katara smiled kindly. Korra's confusion was all too familiar. "Traditional waterbender healing hasn't been working, nor have the airbender techniques that Aang taught me, not even in conjunction. I think that your friend needs some traditional earthbender meditation to release his blockages, and then we can start fresh."

"What does that mean?" Korra asked. "Traditional earthbending meditation?"

Katara smiled smartly but avoided the question. The plan she had been pondering since Bolin's earlier, very minor, explosion was too severe for Korra to accept willingly. And if Korra told anyone else… "Bolin is supposed to be at the healing hut at sundown tomorrow. I'd like you to send Naga with him, wait an hour after he leaves, and then meet us near the hot spring two miles east of town. You mustn't tell Tenzin where we've gone or where you're going, he'll worry himself sick. Bring Asami, I don't want you traveling all that way by yourself."

Korra nodded.

"And bring your father as well. There may be some heavy lifting to do afterward."

Again, Korra nodded.

"Very good, then," Katara said, and she stood with renewed vigor. "I'll see you tomorrow evening."

* * *

><p>Bolin left at sundown as instructed, leading Naga along behind him, and arrived at the healing hut in fair spirits. He had spent the day in leisure with Korra's parents—mostly her father—drinking hot tea and reminiscing about girls and brothers and bending. His thoughts remained on those subjects up until Katara met him at the door with a wide smile.<p>

"It's chilly tonight," she said in greeting, and Bolin heartily agreed. It was always cold near the South Pole "Would you mind helping me up? I'm old, you see, and polar bear dogs are not my preferred mode of transport."

"Where are we going?"

"To a place full of spiritual energy," Katara replied, "where we can focus without interruption."

Bolin had been wondering all day why Katara had instructed him to bring Naga along for the session that evening. He could not wrap his head around how a polar bear dog was supposed to help him find inner peace, if such a thing was possible at all. Interested by the sudden change in venue, Bolin pulled Naga to the ground, gently lifted Katara into the saddle, and took his own seat comfortably behind her. Then the waterbending master navigated them away from the village.

Naga kept a brisk pace even when Katara led her off the paved roads and into the wilds of the east, and Bolin asked no questions though he often considered it. On one hand he was very interested to know where Katara would take him; on the other hand he assumed that they would end up at the Southern Spirit Portal, as it was the most spiritual place he could think of. But as they went he noted that their path was not taking them closer to the portal. Before he could ask, Katara urged Naga to a halt.

"I think this place will do," Katara said. They stood in the center of a clear flat blanketed with snow and ice, well beyond view of the city lights. "Naga, down."

The polar bear dog obliged, Bolin disembarked, and helped Katara from her perch. Then Katara motioned the dog away, told her firmly to stay put, and led Bolin into the center of the clearing.

"I figured you'd take me to the spirit portal," Bolin said absently. "You said we were going someplace with spiritual power."

Katara smiled and patted him gently on the shoulders, and as she walked away from him said, "Spiritual power manifests itself differently in all kinds of people and places." Then she rounded on him. "Are you ready?"

Genuinely perplexed by the sudden movement, Bolin shrugged. "Ready for what?"

A hard-packed block of ice connected solidly with his shoulder, a projectile he had not seen coming, and as he recovered from his stagger Bolin looked to Katara in utter befuddlement. Another block came hurtling forth and this he dodged easily enough. As he watched her, she smiled.

"What are you doing?" Bolin asked in disbelief.

"Opening your chakras," Katara replied simply and sent a third block toward him. She had said the words playfully, and it seemed that her bending was only halfhearted. The ice that had hit him had not hurt and was more startling than it was damaging. "Fight back, Bolin. I won't go easy on you just because I'm old."

"I can't fight back!" Bolin cried frantically, dodging another casually tossed shard. His imagination ran wild with images of the damage he could cause the old woman if he managed to earthbend at her freely. He did not dare think what could happen if he lavabent. "Tenzin will murder me! I can't bend!"

Katara planted her feet in an offensive posture and her face turned suddenly grave. "So be it."

Bolin's heart jumped to his throat. He had heard enough tales of this woman to know her prowess—at least in younger days—as a skilled waterbending warrior. Even in her old age she looked imposing enough to cause his stomach to constrict with anxiety. He moved to plead with her, but as soon as he raised his arms Katara's barrage began.

Ice shards pelted Bolin ceaselessly, mixed with larger chunks that sent him sprawling. All he could do was raise his arms to block and dodge what he could, his body reacting instinctively, defensively. "Stop it!" he cried. "This is ridiculous!"

A stream of icy liquid water smacked him across the face, and as he reeled he heard Katara yell. "Stand up for yourself!" she demanded, sending another shard of ice his way. This one caught him mid-dodge, below the left eye, and opened a stinging slice that bled freely. Bolin reeled from the blow, his hand pressed against his bleeding cheek. He pulled his hand away, stared at it stupidly, amazed and slightly alarmed by the slick redness, and looked to Katara dumbfounded, and as he did she stopped bending and stood with aggressive posture. He wondered how such a frail looking old woman could bend with such power?

"This is pathetic," she said coldly. "It's no wonder Korra left you."

Bolin's eyes went wide and he stalled, insulted. "What? She never _left_ me. She was never _with_ me to begin with."

Katara waved his argument away, and in the same fluid motion sent another barrage of ice and snow at him. He rolled deftly to the side. "It makes no difference. It's no wonder why," she called above the noise. "Southern Water Tribe girls like strong men!"

_Is she mocking me?_ Bolin thought as he blocked a shard with his forearm, anger building in his gut.

"Fight back!" Katara demanded, her voice intense but neutral. With a great sweep of her arms she raised an enormous boulder of ice and snowpack and hurled it with incredible speed.

Unable to dodge, Bolin planted his feet firmly. _It's now or never,_ he thought, _it's Bolin time. Bolin time. Come on…Bend! _His brow knit with intense concentration and he focused his energy on the earth beneath the snow, intending to raise a thick protective barrier before him as he had done a thousand times in the past. The movements came naturally: sweep the left foot back, a strong stomp forward with the right, lift the arms to draw the earth from the ground.

Nothing happened.

The glacier connected with a sickening crack, splintering against him and sending him sprawling to the ground, dazed, breathless, and angry. He rose at once to find more ice and snow and water flying toward him. He took two hard hits to the shoulders, one to the chest, another face full of water, and each blow left him angrier than the last—not at Katara, but at his own inability to defend against a woman he should easily best, if not out of sheer skill then out of pure stamina, strength, and youth. He was a lavabender—the only one known to be alive—yet here an eighty-year-old healer was embarrassing him like a child.

"It's no wonder you grew up alone!" Katara mocked, all the joy gone from her voice. "How could your parents have survived having to protect a weakling like you?"

Another chunk of ice crashed into him. He wanted to shout at her how ridiculous such a statement was—he had been six years old when his parents died, completely incapable of earthbending, incapable of protecting them from anyone or anything, let alone a skilled psycho firebender. Though the thoughts raced through his head the words would not form in his mouth. All that came out was what sounded to him as an angry growl, animalistic and full of rage, and again he planted his feet.

The barrage intensified; bricks flew at him left and right with blinding speed and accuracy, Katara's insults continued, numbing his body to the physical attacks. "And your brother—if he was half as weak as you it's not a wonder he died!"

A lump of ice caught Bolin square in the forehead and he stumbled backward.

Bolin erupted.

With a cry of purest rage he fractured the earth. Fissures shot a hundred feet in all directions, opening jagged clefts in the ice, shaking the ground so severely that Katara fell. Bolin didn't see her go down. He didn't see anything. Never in his life had he been so utterly blinded by rage, deafened by rage, insulted or slandered.

Another guttural scream, fists pounded against the ground, and pillars of bright red-orange lava shot into the sky so high that they caught wind and darkened at their peaks. Bolin stood, pale faced and narrow eyed, and with a roar of exertion thrust forward his arms, sending a twelve-foot wave of molten rock surfing across the ground.

* * *

><p>Katara moved with speed she didn't know she possessed and scrambled to her feet. Terrified and faced with a sheer wall of red-orange lava, she took one glance to the sky, raised her arms, and clenched her fists so tight her knuckles whitened. In a heartbeat the magma wave died with a brilliant splash and the lava pillars crashed to the ground, raising a cloud of steam so opaque that she couldn't see her own hands. Still she held on, longer than she would have liked, and only after the immense fog began to clear let Bolin fall limp to the ground.<p>

Again she looked up, never more thankful in her long life for the predictability of the full moon.


	5. Healing Part 2: Released

Author's Note: Viewership appears to be up (120+ views in a day?) but nobody is reviewing! Please leave feedback so I know what you like, what you dislike, and what could be fixed or changed. Having people leave comments helps me keep writing and, better, helps me to improve.

Also, to this point, I've made significant updates to past chapters to adjust (and fix) some point of view issues. If you'd like to go back and reread awesome, but nothing major has changed plotwise. Thanks for your readership.

* * *

><p>Korra watched the fight from afar with a healthy mix of amusement, anxiety, and wonder. Tonraq and Asami sat beside her with faces that shifted through the same spectrum as her own. The wholly one-sided battle before them was a show fit for festival days, made even more incredible by its source. Katara moved with the grace of a woman half her age and bent the water and ice with power only a lifetime of bending mastery could produce.<p>

If anything Korra felt sorry for Bolin. Even from so far away she could see the desperation on his face as he absorbed hit after devastating hit. Tonraq and Asami must have felt the same, because each time Katara's ice blocks sent him sprawling Asami would gasp and cover her mouth only to relax once he regained his feet, and Tonraq's face would scrunch into an occasional grimace when a particularly large hit made contact.

Korra worried when, for a while, Bolin seemed to grow sluggish as though he was exhausted, but then Katara began yelling words she could not understand and Bolin seemed to fill with renewed vigor. His expression shifted, his whole stance grew threatening. And then he exploded.

Slack jawed, Korra watched the ground split and the magma erupt. A crack in the ice opened not ten feet to her right and a tendril of molten earth crept toward her slowly, inhibited by the snow. At once Korra moved to intervene but Tonraq grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and held her steady, his eyes locked unerringly on Katara.

The three watched Katara bend, but no ice or water or snow came up in her grasp. Then the lava fell to the ground, the great cloud of steam rose, and the arena obscured. Korra looked to her father in horror but he continued to stare ahead resolutely.

"Wait," he said gravely. "Just wait."

The steam began to clear away slowly.

"Let's go," Tonraq said suddenly, and with one hand under Korra's arm and the other under Asami's he helped them to their feet.

The trio rushed to Katara's aid, fearing the worst. When they reached her she was standing, out of breath and exhausted, but unharmed. She didn't speak to them even as they barraged her with questions; she merely stared ahead and waited for the steam to clear.

"Tonraq, go get him, we'll need to get back to town as quickly as possible. I may have injured him, I couldn't see what I was doing."

Korra watched her father go with anxiety mounting in the pit of her stomach. He moved swiftly, stepping around sluggish lava streams, and once he reached the impassably vast flow encircling Bolin's body he surfed along a bridge of thick ice that hissed and melted as it met the heat. Then Tonraq knelt, scooped Bolin into his arms frantically, and rushed back wearing an expression of utmost concern.

"You bloodbent him," Korra cried as Tonraq went, her voice full of confusion and horror. She looked angrily at Katara. She felt ready to lash out in defense of her friend. Being bloodbent was no happy experience, Korra knew firsthand, and to imagine that Katara would stoop to such a level went beyond Korra's reckoning.

Katara breathed deep. "And it's a good thing I did. He would've killed me." She paused and looked at Korra. "Get Naga."

By the time Korra returned with her polar bear dog, Katara had raised a slab of ice from the earth, sculpting it as a litter with shallow sides and small blades. Asami had removed Naga's leash and fastened the sled to the rear of her saddle. When Tonraq arrived he placed Bolin on the sled and all looked to Katara for orders.

"Tonraq, Korra, you make certain that his ride is as smooth as possible. Asami, dear, would you please help me up, and make certain that the sled doesn't come undone."

The lot did as they were told. As they rushed back toward town Katara continued her instructions with urgency. "You must not tell anyone what happened here tonight."

"Did you _plan_ to bloodbend him?" Korra interrupted, still angry. There could be no coincidence that she'd brought Bolin out under the full moon. "It's illegal! He's my friend!"

"Enough, Korra!" Katara snapped, and the Avatar went silent. Korra listened intently as Katara explained. "I had hoped against it, but worried that whatever he had pent up might have an explosive ending. I had hoped that whatever was blocking his chakras was sadness or grief or mourning, instead it was rage."

"I don't think I've ever seen Bolin angry in my life," Asami stammered beneath her breath.

"Apparently not," Katara replied. "Bottling up that kind emotion is unhealthy."

They neared the hut and slowed their pace. Korra was first to the ground and rushed to help Katara from the saddle. Meanwhile, Tonraq scooped Bolin up once more and looked between him and Katara.

"Get him inside," Katara urged, and she followed Tonraq into the hut. "Korra, Asami, you stay here. I'll need you in a moment." Then she and Tonraq disappeared into the private healing chamber. "Get those clothes off of him before he freezes to death," Korra heard her say through the closed door, then Katara said irritably, "Oh for goodness' sake, Tonraq, I raised two boys! Just get him in the water!"

Korra looked at Asami with mounting dread, but Asami merely shrugged.

"Korra!"

Korra rushed into the room. Tonraq now stood clear of the pool, scarlet faced with his eyes on the ground. Whatever immodesty had flustered him had been neatly concealed by the pool's wooden cover, half closed over Bolin's lower body, and Korra looked between all three people with confusion. Katara was bending the water around Bolin's body, her father was seemingly too afraid to move, and Bolin's body had sprouted sick brown bruises all over.

"Fire. We need heat," Katara ordered, breaking Korra from her astonishment. Korra hesitated, and when she did Katara snapped, "What is it with you young people and your fear of _bodies_."

At this, Korra moved quicker, seating herself beside the pool. She opened a neatly inlaid panel on the side of the enclosure, revealing a shallow metal box tucked away beneath the basin. At once she began to firebend, pumping as much heat into the box as she could, and within a minute steam rose from the water. Korra continued to firebend until the air in the room hung thick with steam.

"Now that's enough," Katara barked, "you don't want to boil the poor boy."

Korra stopped bending at once, replaced the metal box's cover, and stepped away from the basin. She felt her father's arms wrap around her shoulders. They were strong and comforting, but Korra still felt afraid. She and Tonraq watched speechlessly as Katara waved her arms atop the pool, swirling the water gently over the scrapes and bruises and cuts she had wrought on Bolin's body.

"You don't need to stay for this if you're uncomfortable," Katara said with a deep breath, more gentle now that things had fallen apparently under control. "I imagine he'll be asleep for a while, perhaps all night, and when he wakes he'll be a wreck."

Korra felt Tonraq's grip tighten on her shoulders, a clear indication that he would prefer to go.

"I want to stay," Korra said, taking the hint. "Dad, you can go, I'll be okay. Will you send Asami in?"

Katara nodded her assent and Tonraq left without hesitation. Korra stood awkwardly for a second, staring at Bolin thoughtfully, until enough sense came go her to sit down. She found a spot on a wall-mounted bench and folded her hands in her lap. Asami entered moments later, wringing her hands and staring at the pool uncertainly. She took a seat against the wall beside Korra, and the two joined hands to watch intently as Katara continued her healing. Korra could feel Asami's fingers trembling and she worked hard to keep herself steady. She had to be the rock now.

"So what happens next?" Asami asked after a while.

"I don't know," Katara replied. "All I do know is that you've got a powerful friend here, and you'd do well to keep him around."

The girls nodded as one, and Korra glanced at Asami. Katara had told them nothing they didn't already know: Both Mako and Bolin had always been extremely skilled benders. But Korra had watched Bolin's earthbending change and mature into something beyond stereotypical pro-bending quick steps. Ever since she had learned he could lavabend she saw Bolin take on a more natural and stronger style, incorporating stances and forms that combined all the fluidity and balance of waterbending with the strength and brutality of earthbending. When she discovered he had been working with the tyrant Kuvira three years later, Korra had genuinely worried. The sheer power he possessed could easily kill, though to Korra's immense relief Bolin had recognized Kuvira's error and returned to the side of good.

"He'll be hurting for a while, you can count on that, but as for when he wakes up?" she shook her head slowly. "I brought up something primal. I don't know whether he was even aware of what he was doing. That's why I resorted to bloodbending, Korra."

Secretly, Korra hoped that the bloodbending hadn't hurt him.

* * *

><p>Bolin woke but did not open his eyes. He knew at once that he was submerged to his neck in the healing tank, that comfortably warm water was flowing around him, and that his body hurt more than it had hurt at any point in living memory. His head pounded, his muscles felt heavy and weak.<p>

He was naked.

He was in the healing waters. Someone—Katara?—was bending that warm water around him. And he was naked.

"Relax," he heard Katara say gently. "I know you're awake."

A thousand questions rocketed through Bolin's brain with emotions to match. Confused, he wanted to ask what had happened; afraid, he wanted to ask if he had hurt her; slightly embarrassed, he wanted to ask why he was nude. Instead, what came out of his mouth was a lame, "I'm sorry," and he felt even more ashamed.

He didn't even know what he was apologizing for, but it seemed the appropriate thing to say given the seemingly awkward situation. He remembered the fighting up to the point where she had begun to insult him, but he couldn't remember the insults. He couldn't remember how it all ended. Somewhere along the line his mind had gone all blank and everything after that fuzzy boundary was lost. He wanted to cry.

"You're all right, dear," Katara said. "Just relax. It's five o'clock in the morning, you've been asleep most of the night."

_Odd_, Bolin thought. _It feels like I haven't slept for days. _"We were in the middle of nowhere…"

"And now we're safe back in the healing hut. Tonraq helped me get you here. There's nothing to be ashamed of. I injured you, and now I'm healing you as thoroughly as I know how. You'd have frozen to death in those wet clothes of yours."

Bolin opened his eyes at last and noted with no shortage of relief that his modesty was concealed from the world by a thick wooden panel that covered half the pool. Then he noted with slightly less relief that Korra and Asami were sleeping atop each other on the floor in the corner of the room. Apparently, Katara noted his apprehension because she shifted her body to block them from his view.

"They assisted me in getting you here," she explained. "Korra's been helping keep you warm, and she airbent your clothes dry. They didn't see anything."

"I don't care if they see me naked," Bolin replied without thinking, and went immediately scarlet. "That's…not what I meant…"

Katara smiled a wise old smile, and Bolin calmed slightly. "You seem flustered. Will you tell me what's going through your mind right now?"

"Everything hurts," he said and pressed his hands against his forehead, the heels of his hands resting against his eyes. His temples throbbed uncomfortably. "What did you do to me?" He remembered being pelted with ice over and over and over. He examined a pinkish-purplish bruise on his triceps and then touched his face where he recalled she had cut him. The gash remained, and his fingers came back with the slightest stain of red.

"I've not had a chance to heal that yet, unfortunately."

"Did I bend?"

Katara laughed a genuine, elated laugh. "Oh, sweet boy, you did, and it was magnificent. I feared for my life."

Bolin's eyes went wide.

"I didn't know you could bend lava. That's a rare gift. Only a few avatars have been known to possess that ability."

Bolin stammered stupidly. "I didn't hurt anyone…" His mind filled with visions of bodies melting grotesquely in pools of molten rock. He'd had nightmares like this before and for several weeks after he'd discovered his unique ability, but they hadn't come forward in months. Not with such horrifying clarity.

With a serene smile, Katara shook her head. "There's something you should know, and I'm sorry for it," she said, and paused to think. "You—I don't know how to describe what you did, but it was amazing. Berserk, I suppose. Mindless. You weren't yourself is what I'm trying to say: You're one of the most mindful people I think I've ever met."

"What did I do?" Bolin's voice trembled, terrified.

"Raw power. It was beautiful, but horrifying. You must've made a thousand cracks in the earth, and out of each one you drew the most amazing fountain of lava, fifteen or twenty feet high. You…you sent one of those fountains at me."

If possible, Bolin's eyes went wider.

"Again, I apologize. I was afraid, having never dealt with lavabending before. I expected some explosive release of emotions from you and thus timed our outing with the full moon. I didn't expect things to getquite so intense."

"You bloodbent me," Bolin said, at last coming to the realization. Suddenly all the fear went out of him. If he had been told he would be bloodbent that night he would have been beyond angry. Now he just felt slightly numb.

"Please forgive me, Bolin," Katara said, and she stopped bending the water and bowed low at the waist even as she sat. "I had hoped never to use that ability again, but…you had me outmatched and I had to disable you before you hurt someone."

"Why can't I remember it?"

Katara smiled and sat upright. "As I said, you were not yourself. I trust you recall our discussion about chakras?"

Bolin nodded.

"Yours were backed up something terrible, dammed like a river. I had thought that your grief for the loss of your brother was what ultimately caused the blockage, resulting in your inability to bend, but after a time it became clear to me that your grief was only a small portion of your problem. All sorts of negative emotions blocked your energies, and what came out of you was the purest rage I've ever seen."

"Oh," Bolin said lamely.

"Left for too long, negative emotions build into resentment and anger, and it seems to be your nature to keep those emotions locked away. You might think you're letting them all go in the moment, but deep down somewhere they build up and are left unresolved. I cut loose the dam," Katara continued explaining, "and thus released all the things that were blocking you from bending. Each of these items will pass through the stream, and I beg of you to work through them in turn if they cause you more trouble."

Bolin thought on this for a while, his eyes locked on his contemplated her analysis for a while and decided that, hard as it was to admit, she must be right. All the evidence pointed to it. As a child while living on the streets with Mako he had often found himself trying to be strong and maybe a little bit detached. Always at the back of his mind had been Mako's well being; he'd never wanted to cause Mako any undue stress. Bolin decided early on that the best way to keep Mako happy in their youth—if Mako could have been happy at such a point in their lives—was to make it seem like he himself was happy, at least outwardly.

Absently, Bolin looked to Korra and Asami in the corner, and he worried that they had seen the explosion Katara spoke of, and worried if they knew he harbored such pent up feelings. He wondered what they would think of him if they found out.

"What do you feel when you look at them?"

The question caught Bolin off guard and his stomach gave a sick lurch, but he contemplated nonetheless. _Deal with the issues one by one_, he reminded himself, _or you'll be blocked all over again._

"I feel sad. And angry."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Bolin reasoned as he fidgeted in the water. "I shouldn't be sad to see them together. They love each other, and that's okay. I've got Opal, and that's okay, too."

"You've dodged the question well enough, now answer it. Why are you sad?"

The answer had, in truth, always been in the back of Bolin's mind, but any time it bubbled to the surface he pushed it back down again. The issue was over and done, resolved years ago, and bringing it back up would do no one any good.

"Bolin?" Katara prodded. "I can tell by the look on your face that you're trying to rationalize. Just answer the question. This is part of dealing with the problems, you see. Reasoning your way out of something is not the same as facing your feelings."

The words caught in his throat when first he tried to speak. But Bolin swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and finally said; "Everyone got a chance with Korra except for me."

"And you resent her?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I got one measly date, and Mako killed it before it ever got a chance to get off the ground."

"Do you think things would be different now if she had picked you instead of him?"

"I don't know," he said. "We were happy."

"Have you addressed this with Korra?"

Had he not been naked, Bolin would likely have sprung from the pool in outrage. "Of course not! I've got Opal! It's all over and done with, doesn't make any sense to—"

"Hum, you need to stop thinking about what makes sense," Katara said slowly, as if in thought. "You earthbenders are wildly pragmatic, do you know that? Right now you're clearing away old blockage, addressing problems that are harming your body and mind. I won't force you to talk to anyone about anything you don't feel comfortable with, and I'll never tell a soul what we've spoken of here tonight, but I encourage you to explore your emotions instead of rationalizing them."

Bolin nodded.

"And as for those two," she continued, "just remember that your love is no less valuable to them than the love they share with each other. I don't believe there's a person in this world who's ever lived without wondering what life would be like with another person. Perhaps you were always meant to wonder about Korra."

"You married Avatar Aang," Bolin said. "Did you ever wonder about how your life would be if you ended up with someone else?"

Again, Katara smiled. Bolin thought she smiled a lot for a person with so much wisdom and strength. "Many times, with many different people. But that's not to say I wasn't extremely happy with Aang; I was." She paused and stopped bending the water. "I think it's time you got out," she said resolutely. "There's a spare bed here in the hut that you can sleep in, with a radio if you're not feeling restful. I weakened you quite a bit—I can't force you to sleep, but I want you to relax. And _actually_ relax, don't worry about what other people think about what happened tonight." She produced a towel and placed it on the wood panel covering the bath, and then retrieved his dried clothes from the corner. "I'll excuse myself so that you can dress in modesty. I need some sleep as well, and I've got to spend a little time with Tenzin tomorrow. You'll be in the second door on the left down the entryway."

Before Bolin could thank her, Katara left the room. He heaved a great sigh, grabbed the towel from the base of the pool, and quietly exited the basin. He wrapped the towel round his waist, pulled on his undershirt, and with a final rueful glance to Korra and Asami left to the room Katara had specified. Once in private he dried and dressed and flopped onto the bed, turning on the radio when he landed. The reception was poor but he could make out the early morning news broadcast over the fuzz.

"…in the wake of the Ba Sing Se attack. President Raiko will reopen Republic City's borders tomorrow morning, though travelers into the city will be subject to strict restrictions and search requirements. United Republic Armed Forces remain stationed for cleanup in Ba Sing Se, and small regiments have been spread throughout the Earth Kingdom. A fleet of ships remains in Republic City Harbor. These precautions come even though no further messages have been received from the DSF. Again we remind folks to remain vigilant. If you see or hear anything suspicious or out of place, report to your local authorities immediately."

Bolin sighed.

"In other news, the remaining Earth Kingdom elections finished yesterday with seventy-five percent turnout to the polls. Unsurprisingly, votes have been being counted quickly, and we have the following results in real time: In the Si Wong Desert, Na Zhang; in the Kolau Mountainous Region, Jun Wu Sung; in the Zao Fu Region, Suyin Beifong; in the Gaoling Region, Xiu Rei Huan. Ballots are still being counted from Omashu and the Northwest Forested Regions. We expect the remaining winners to be announced tomorrow.

"And now for your weather…"

"It's cold in the South Pole…" Bolin muttered dryly, and turned the dial on the radio. At least Suyin had won her election, he thought as he fine-tuned to the next station. He hadn't even known she was running. And the travel restrictions on Republic City were being lifted, so maybe he would finally be able to see Opal.

He settled on the clearest signal he could find: a jazzy station that did not fit his mood. Restless, Bolin rolled around on the bed, crushed the flat pillow between his elbow and his head, rolled some more, sat up, stretched, looked out the window, retuned the radio again, and lay back down. Katara's orders to relax kept rolling through his brain but his body simply would not comply. At last he found a relatively comfortable position flat on his back, arms behind his head, half tucked beneath the heavy blankets. He stared at the ceiling as crackling melodies floated over him, watched the sun begin to rise out of the east-facing window, and groped absently at his middle when his stomach grumbled angrily.

Half dozed, he heard the door open and sat bolt straight, startled. At some point the radio had gone to dead air and the sun had come up well over the horizon. Korra entered the room carrying a basin of water and she grinned at him widely.

"Good morning!" she said brightly.

"Good morning," Bolin replied, less so. He dreaded any talk of the night prior.

Korra sat across from him at the foot of the bed and placed the basin between them. "Katara asked me if I'd finish up some of the minor healing for her. She's helping Tenzin with the airbender kids. Apparently they're reopening travel to Republic City tomorrow and Tenzin wants to get back early to avoid any trouble."

"Where's Asami?"

Korra's smile widened. "She's rustling up some breakfast for all of us. Now let me take a look at you." She grabbed him by the chin roughly and scrutinized the cut on his cheek. "That's not minor," she said with a pout.

Still, she drew the water from the basin and bent it round the wound with her brow wrinkled in concentration. Bolin fidgeted, his eyes locked on his fingers. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. His gut was rumbling, and he couldn't tell if it was out of hunger or anxiety. After a while Korra dropped the water into the basin and moved on to a bruise on his arm, then a cut on his other arm, all without a single word.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to completely close that scratch on your face," she said dully while tending the fourth superficial bruise. "It's a lot deeper than it looks. Do you want me to try again?"

Bolin shrugged absentmindedly.

"Are you okay?"

Fidgeting still, Bolin struggled for words with Katara's recommendation rushing through his brain. He felt like a large swarm of buzzard wasps had suddenly taken residence in his stomach. "The last few weeks have been sort of bad," he said, and then felt discouraged by his understatement. Judging by the expression on Korra's face, he _looked_ discouraged as well. "I mean, I lost everything. I mean, I still have Pabu, and I've got you and Asami, I suppose, and Tenzin, I guess. But…"

Korra deposited the water in the basin, her full attention on him now. He glanced up at her, noting that it was concern that knitted her brow now, not concentration. Bolin's anxiety doubled.

"Look," he said bluntly, full of false confidence, "I'm just not happy with the way things turned out." He paused and glanced up at her, then immediately back at his hands. His face felt very hot. "Between us."

Korra's head tilted, and Bolin was struck by her resemblance to a confused Naga. Still, she remained quiet and he flailed for words.

"I'm happy with Opal, don't get me wrong," he rambled, "and I'm happy that you and Asami have—well, whatever it is you two have, I'm happy for you. I just don't think I got the chance I deserved…" his face crinkled in frustration and he sighed deeply. "I just want to know that the right decisions were made."

Korra looked dumbstruck for a while, and then her face softened. "You're such a nice guy," she said at last, very quietly. "Opal is lucky."

Bolin looked at her sheepishly. He'd not heard this tone out of Korra before.

"Maybe things didn't go well for us, but I'm happy with what we've got," Korra continued gently. "Tenzin told me once, when Mako and I were having issues…" She paused as if read Bolin's reaction to Mako's name. "Relationships don't have to be _romantic_ to be intimate, is what Tenzin told me. What you and I have isn't romantic, not by a long stretch, but I know if I'm ever in trouble I can come to you and you'll have my back, and you'll make me feel better. And I hope I'll be able to do the same for you when you need me."

Bolin recalled their night together after Mako's burial, and a pang of regret stabbed at his stomach. It had been like lying with a sister, or what he imagined that would feel like: Without romantic intention at all. He had just needed comfort, someone familiar and friendly and nonjudgmental to stay with him. Mako had always filled that role for him, though certainly the brothers had never spent the night in such an intimate position as he and Korra had. Was the Avatar the one to fill that role now? The one with whom he should be intimate but not romantic?

"I'm sorry," he said. After a long silence he looked up and noticed the slightest hint of wetness at the edges of Korra's eyes. Surprised, he held up his hands and stammered, "Oh no, I'm so sorry. I upset you. I didn't mean to upset you!" She hadn't even cried at the funeral.

She threw herself on him, upturning the bowl of water and wrapping him in a breathtakingly strong embrace. "You big idiot," she choked, burying her face in his shoulder. "Stop being sorry about everything! Stop worrying about everyone else! You've got to take care of you first!"

"I'm sorry!"

With a genuine laugh Korra pulled back, tears still in her eyes, and Bolin sat staring in confusion and doubting he would ever understand the female mind. Then, quite suddenly, she gripped him by both cheeks and planted a firm kiss in the middle of his forehead.

"Ow!"

Bolin jumped back and groped at the cut on his face. "You can't go five minutes without hurting me, can you, woman?" he cried, and she laughed.

"I think it's my turn to apologize," Korra said, seemingly happy again. She righted the overturned bowl and drew the spilt water from the bedclothes, replacing it in the basin. "Are you going to be all right?"

His grin was lopsided and halfhearted, and he said more for her sake, "I hope so."


	6. Imprisoned

A shorter chapter this week! I very much appreciate all the views, reads, and the reviews I received last week. Please continue reading on and reviewing to let me know what you think and if there is anything you'd like to comment on (or errors!). Thank you so much.

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><p>The room in which Mako had been confined was cramped but comfortable, with a wall-mounted wood framed cot, a desk and chair, a toilet, and a sink. A single shelf had been recessed into the wall above the desk and contained old, dog-eared volumes of firebending propaganda dating to well before the hundred-year war. The room was just wide enough to pull out the chair and sit, and long enough that he could pace for five seconds in each direction before needing to turn around.<p>

Daily healing sessions for four days had brought his eyesight almost entirely back to normal, and his hearing recovered as well though it remained better on his right side than his left, which still painfully rang several times daily. These sessions were the only time he was permitted to leave the cell and absorb his surroundings. From these trips Mako surmised that the place at large had once been a prison of some kind, refurbished to seem more as a group of dormitories than a lockup. His room sat along a square block several stories high with a wide-open courtyard in the middle where people in varying states of health took part in a wide array of activities from reading to weightlifting to playfully firebending with each other. They all appeared happy enough.

Toru remained his caretaker and escort, and she seemed well liked among the compound. Now that Mako could see he understood why: She was young, perhaps Bolin's age, bright-eyed and always smiling, but with a slightly sad look in her eyes all the same. Each day she came to his cell around noon with lunch—usually plain white rice and some vegetable or tofu—dined with him in quiet, then led him to the healing center, a smaller block of larger rooms equipped with comfortable chairs and enormous basins of clear, clean water. Often Mako wondered how many waterbenders were employed here but he never bothered to ask. Ever since he asked why she was here, Toru seemed unwilling to talk much.

He was pacing when she entered that day, and she wore an expression of dismay. Mako stopped and watched her standing in the doorway, rocking nervously back and forth from her toes to her heels. "What's wrong?"

"You've been healed as much as you can be," she said quietly. "I'm afraid our time together is over."

Mako was uncertain how to react to the news. He was surprised that she had come to tell him this, considering the impersonality of the place, and at the same time apprehensive about what was to come next. He simply stared.

"You'll be transferred out of this compound to your new home tomorrow," Toru continued. "Since you're healthy you're able to be integrated into the Society."

"Integrated into the Society…" Mako parroted dumbly. "What does that even mean?"

"When we first met I told you that your questions would be answered, but circumstances have prevented me from making good on that promise. I'm sorry for that," Toru stepped past him and sat on the edge of the bed. "Sit."

Mako straddled the desk chair and rested his chin on his palm. Toru extended her hand and revealed a small silver key, glanced at Mako, and then looked away. "Take it."

"What is it?" Mako asked as he pocketed the key.

"I said you have until tomorrow until you're relocated," she said. "Use this time to find the answers to your questions."

"Why can't you answer my questions?"

Toru looked at the floor as though ashamed. "I shouldn't be talking to you at all. You see, Guan is—was—" she sighed deeply. "He's my fiancé. He doesn't want me to spend time with the residents. If I disobey…"

She had said the words with such sadness that Mako couldn't help but feel sorry for her, yet the simple explanation answered many questions. "You're as much a prisoner as I am," he said.

"No! No! We're not prisoners here!"

Mako raised an eyebrow. The words had come out passionately enough, but Toru's expression belied her confidence. He drew the key out of his pocket and considered it for a moment before waving it in front of her face. "What is this?"

"I stole it from the guards' chambers. It's a master copy; it'll get you into many rooms, but not all. The healers are given them, and so are the sentinels." She looked at him with sudden urgency. "You have to understand, Guan didn't react well to your interview."

"My interview…"

"The questions I asked you," Toru clarified. "The first time you were lucid I asked you a series of identifying questions…"

"Yeah, yeah I remember," Mako interrupted impatiently. "What do you mean he didn't react well?"

Toru cleared her throat and averted her gaze, then spoke slowly. "Our society is…blooming. We're not yet fully matured, but we're well on the way. Every firebender is valuable to us right now, especially those capable of lightning generation and combustion. That means you're valuable, you understand, Guan won't kill you no matter how much he threatens, but he's unsure where he wants to send you."

Mako tilted his head in confusion. "I don't understand."

"He knows you're connected with the Avatar, and he doesn't want that kind of threat against the Society. We can't handle it. He's very conflicted about what to do with you."

"So what?"

"Well, according to your interview there's only one link between you the Avatar outside of this compound, one connection that might drive her to search for you. You see, after you're integrated you'll be assigned a job for the greater good of the Society. You'll be sent out into the world to work for the betterment of firebenders everywhere, and we can't have outsiders interfering after you've been assimilated. The odds of you running into the Avatar are reasonably low. If you run into others, people you're very close to, they'll break your bond with the Society. It's happened before. People have died."

Mako grabbed Toru by the shoulders firmly. "What are you trying to say? I don't understand."

Toru shook her head desperately. "I don't know what they're planning yet. Guan is holding a meeting with his advisors this evening in the general assembly hall in cell block C to decide what they'll do with you."

"That's why you gave me the key…"

"I have to go."

"No!" Mako commanded, even as she stood. "I don't understand this _connection_ thing! What do you mean?"

Toru turned back at the door and shook her head, and then she left. Dumbfounded, Mako looked between the closed door and the key in his hand, his mind working to decode the strange conversation. She had said so much, yet so little. _Integration, assimilation, connection_. And this meeting? Clearly she had meant for him to eavesdrop, but he hadn't the slightest notion where cell block C was, nor what actual time the meeting was to take place. For an informant, Toru had been woefully inadequate.

Mako spent the rest of the day pacing the tiny walkway between the desk and the cot, laying down occasionally, staring at the key, and pacing some more, always thinking. He deduced several things: This was absolutely a healing camp or quarantine, where new firebenders were brought for rehabilitation and filtering; each firebender was given the same interview he had been, given a chance to accept or reject the Society. The leaders would judge them based on the results of their interview, and each person would be dealt with accordingly. There was a hierarchy, of which he presently sat at the bottom, and Guan at the top, and it seemed that the lines between stations were thick and impenetrable, particularly if the leaders' fiancée was in such a state of inferiority. Not all firebenders were equal, but all firebenders were important. Otherwise, Mako could not guess.

He lay on the cot until a guard delivered dinner, but he did not have the appetite for another bowl of plain white rice. Once it had gone cold he mustered his nerve and drew the key from his pocket—it was time to go.

Mako reached his first obstacle before he even left the room. Locked from the outside, he could not open the door nor could he reach the keyhole to unlock it. With a groan of frustration he examined the mechanism—the latch and bolt were old and rusted and attached the door from the inside. Promising, but he had no tools to remove it. So, he grabbed the desk chair and sat before the door, then cracked his knuckles and set to work.

With two fingers, he generated a small but precise flame that licked at the metal handle. He worked it on all sides, then the bolts, then the handle again, until the apparatus as a whole glowed faintly. Then he stood, pushed the chair away from the door, and gave a great heaving kick against the metal. Once. Twice. On the third kick the bolts gave way just enough that the door creaked slightly on its hinges.

Mako peeked into the cell block, grateful that the heating of the knob had taken long enough for the guards to clear. He stepped out gingerly, double and triple checking the corridor, and scouted over the railing into the courtyard. Everything was empty.

Quietly he crept down the walkway, eyes peeled for a sign of some kind that would tell him where to go. Finding nothing, he headed down the stairs, through the courtyard and toward the healing chambers, the only place he recognized beside his own cell, with hope that something would be there. Mako entered the block of healing cells and produced the silver key. He opened a door to darkness.

Relieved, he closed the door, conjured flame in his open palm, and peered around. This room was orderly, with a uniform hung on a peg and a clipboard and chart beside it. He stared with some effort at the paper—a form for a man named Lee Fong—but it revealed no interesting information. He left that room and opened another. This room's form was stamped with a large red X, which Mako supposed did not bode well. Upon further examination he found that this man, Jeong Wei, had no bending subspecialties, was a councilman from Ba Sing Se, and boasted an incredibly large family.

"They don't want anyone looking for us…" Mako uttered, and replaced the chart on the wall.

Resigned, he considered the uniform. No way he could pass for a waterbender, he thought, he looked too much like a firebender; his yellow eyes would give him away immediately to anyone who took half a glance at him. He moved toward the exit, no closer to answers than when he had set forth.

Again, he poked his head into the hall but this time it was not empty. Three uniformed guards had just recently passed by and were engaged in interesting conversation.

"New recruits ship out tomorrow morning then?"

"Yeah, but they haven't nailed down which ones yet."

His interest piqued, Mako followed stealthily down the hall, keeping a safe distance and darting between shadows.

"Why? Don't they normally have this thing ironed out by now?"

"Yeah. Some of these new guys are coming with baggage, and Guan isn't sure how he wants to handle things. I think they're just going to off the councilman and ship his body back to Ba Sing Se to be found in the wreckage. There's another one, young guy just itching to help out the order, they're going to send him off to some little village in the Earth kingdom to liberate more firebenders."

"Suicide mission, wouldn't it be?"

"Most definitely, but Guan will spin it so it looks like the earthbenders were the aggressors."

Mako paid no attention to where the guards were taking him, but he noted keenly that the corridors were growing more modern the farther they walked. At last the guards led him through a wide doorway which opened into another large refurbished cell block, though this one was far more lavish than the one in which he'd been housed. New fixtures lined the walkways, and each shining door was fitted with a plaque inscribed with a name and rank.

This must be cell block C.

He waited in the doorway, crouched in a shadow, for the three guard patrol to move away. Then he darted out into the open. He emerged in the lower level courtyard, the same as in his block, and noted a bright yellow light reflecting from the balustrade of the third story ring. He picked his way up the stairs, dodged a second patrol, and rushed up. Indeed, at the top of the way was a large windowed room. Within, seated round a large table, was a group of ten or twelve men ranging from very old to quite young, having a heated conversation.

_I've got to get in there,_ Mako thought as he crawled around the room, hiding beneath the windows. He came across a hall leading back, more cells on its right side, the windowed room on its left. Down he went. The door to the windowed room was the first on the left side. Another door just down the way was unmarked, dilapidated, unlit. Again he produced the key, unlocked the door, and pushed it open quietly.

He had expected to find a guard asleep, but instead found a room filled with mops and brooms, buckets, dustpans, and all manner of supplies. Again he closed the door, thanking his good luck, conjured a light, and looked around.

To his great surprise, a rusted old air duct apparently linked this room to the next, and he climbed up to it with care. More fire put to the metal, a gentle tug, and the cover dropped to the floor atop a pile of rags without a sound. Mako squeezed inside and shimmied his way forward until he could just barely make out the men seated round the table. They sounded angry.

"We can't take him!" a gray bearded and shriveled old man yelled. "He's a liability to the Society! He's too close to the Avatar, and if she finds out—"

_They're talking about me_, Mako thought immediately, and he strained to listen, tilting his right ear closer to the outlet. He hoped he hadn't missed too much.

"I'll not have him killed," said another man calmly, whose voice Mako recognized immediately as Guan but whose face he could not see. "He's too valuable."

"He's _not_ valuable!" Another man shouted. "Lightning benders are a dime a dozen these days, and he's got no marketable skills besides!"

Mako winced at the insult.

Guan laughed, and it was a bright, happy sound. "You idiot. He's probably the _most_ marketable of all the new recruits, considering we've got no more combustion benders to send out. Shin did some research into him, you see, after Toru did his interview and found out about the pro bending bit. Yes, he's got baggage and a weak connection to Avatar Korra, but he's got a history with the Triads, he's got knowledge of Republic City's police force, he's got _street smarts_ that we don't get to see with your traditional merchant or councilman."

"Never mind the councilman!" the first man shouted, pounding his fist on the table. "We've already decided on him."

"You can kill your councilman," Guan cooed, "but I get the boy in return. We don't have anyone else who can navigate Republic City like he'll be able to."

"And what do we do when people come looking for him?" said the second man.

A third, unfamiliar voice piped up rather timidly. This one Mako could see as a younger man, bespectacled and thin, without much confidence in his posture. "Republic City thinks he's dead," he said, adjusting his glasses. "It was in the papers last week, they gave him an honorable funeral service with police escorts and everything."

"Lovely!" Guan cried happily.

Mako covered his mouth to suppress a gasp as familiar panic filled his gut. He _was_ dead? They had buried him? It was published in the city paper? His stomach tightened and he felt sick. Bolin was mourning him, Bolin thought he was dead. He had to get out word. He had to let someone know that he was okay.

"They're bound to discover that they buried the wrong man," said the graybeard. "If we send this Mako kid out into the streets to do our work for us, _especially_ if he goes to negotiate with the Triad in Republic City, someone is going to spot him and recognize him. The _Triad_ will recognize him, won't they? Someone will find out eventually."

Guan waved his hand dismissively. "The only people that will recognize him are this brother and Beifong, and the Avatar if she's around. If we do things correctly our men will be in Republic City while Korra is busy negotiating with our representatives in the Fire Nation, hundreds of miles away, after we kill Izumi. Beifong will never see him if he stays underground, and the Triads are under new leadership since the snafu with the Equalists. It's been years since any of those roughs have seen him. Besides, they _buried him_. They saw his body all burned and charred and they put it in a box in the ground. Nobody is going to believe themselves if they see a guy who bears a resemblance to him wandering around. They'll think their eyes are playing tricks."

"What about the brother? Certainly he would have recognized the body as a fake."

At this, the bespectacled man spoke out. "There was no indication that such was the case," he said.

"We need to plan for every contingency if we're going to keep this kid alive," said the graybeard forcefully. "You said so yourself."

"Toru made a note that the brother would be working on construction in Republic City. We have a group of combustion benders there now, don't we? Waiting for orders?" There was a pause, as if he was waiting on some response. Then, Guan continued, "If you're worried about it, send word out to kill the brother, then we won't have anyone worried about finding our guy. In that line of work it should be easy enough for some kind of accident to happen, and combustion would be the easiest way to make that so. It'll give my cousins something to do while they wait for the big jobs."

Mako's blood ran cold. His first instinct was to rush into the room, fire blazing away, but he halted himself. That would only get him killed. No, he had to use his brain, and quickly.

Silently, Mako shuffled backward and dropped from the vent, touching down softly on the pile of rags. He had to find a radio, a telephone, anything to get word back to Republic City. Guan's men were already there. They would have orders soon. In rising panic he crouched round the windowed room and bolted down the stairs back toward the healing center. Certainly there would be some manner of communication somewhere there.

Into a room he went, flicking on the lights without hesitation. He searched frantically but to no avail. Back into the hallway. Another room. Nothing. Another. Nothing. Back into the hall. Frozen with anxiety, he looked all around. The whole block looked the same. There was no indication that this compound had any contact with the outside at all, and the hallways were fully abandoned now. There were no guards to follow to his answers.

His heart in his throat, Mako returned to his room, latched the door as best he could, and threw the key down the toilet. Then, tears in his eyes, he collapsed onto the bed.

He was a helpless prisoner. He was stuck.

And Bolin was in trouble.


	7. Boot Camp

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><p>They came for Mako early in the morning, and after a sleepless night spent panicking over what he'd heard Mako put up no resistance. Two guards dressed in maroon uniforms grasped him by the arms and ushered him out of his cell, through the courtyard, and out into the open. If anyone had noticed the disrepair of his door, they said nothing.<p>

The outside of the building was all red metal, rusted and flaky. The building exited to a leveled concrete platform, gated in by a massive rock wall dozens of feet high. This place was old, Mako thought, ancient, yet somehow familiar.

He joined with a group of others, men and women of which half looked terrified and the others excited, and watched as a gondola came sliding down across the sky. Occasionally he lost the car in great puffs of humid sulfuric steam that rose from below, and as it settled on a platform opposite him, realization hit Mako like a brick.

_The Boiling Rock,_ he thought, his eyes wide. _This is…was…The Boiling Rock_.

He had read about the old Fire Nation prison in one of Jinora's books years ago, back when he and the others were running about the world in Asami's airship to discover new airbenders after Harmonic Convergence. It was the same book in which he'd read about Lake Laogai. Citizens of all nations were held here after being convicted of crimes against the Fire Nation, and were subjected to horrible living conditions and rooms called _coolers_ that lowered body temperature to the point at which firebenders could no longer bend. But according to the text, the prison had been shut down years ago, had been defunded and left to rot in the wake of the war. Firelord Izumi had seen to it that such a barbaric place was eradicated…

A guard shoved Mako hard from behind toward the gondola and he boarded quietly with the other passengers. With a groan the gondola moved back along the cable toward a platform high atop the rock walls surrounding the enormous boiling lake, and Mako's mind began to work. He was in Fire Nation territory, many many miles from Ba Sing Se, but not _too_ far from Republic City. With the number of guards around him and the others there was no hope to make a run for it, much less with the lake of scalding water bubbling beneath him, but perhaps he could send out a message the old fashioned way.

A quick glance around the interior of the gondola and Mako spotted opportunity. A small spiral bound book sat atop a control panel near the front of the car, a pencil stuck in its binding. He reasoned that it must be a logbook. If only he could get his hands on it, he would have _something_ to work with. He recalled reading about the old Fire Nation Army using carrier hawks to deliver messages—perhaps the birds would remember.

Feigning interest in the view, Mako shuffled toward the front of the car and waited near the console. Then, all at once, the gondola shifted to a stop and the guards began to wrangle the prisoners through its rusted door. Wordlessly, Mako slipped his hand toward the logbook and pocketed it, unexpectedly thankful for his years on Republic City's streets. Then he moved through the door with the others, a flood of adrenaline pulsing through him, and concentrated solely on keeping his breathing steady, surreptitious. Now he had only to make it away from here without anyone noticing the logbook had gone missing.

His plans lately contained far too many _ifs_ for his liking.

The herd of prisoners was prodded toward an enormous boat waiting on the shore. They filed into its unremarkable hull, where each man and woman was chained and seated on a long metal stool. A guard placed Mako uncomfortably somewhere in the middle of the group, and Mako felt keenly claustrophobic, not due to the tight spaces nor the bodies pressed against his, but instead because he realized for the first time that every person here seemed exactly like him. They all wore the same ragged burgundy uniform that he wore, they all looked shabby and tired, just barely able to keep their feet. If anything, he felt he might be in better shape than most of those around him.

As the boat moved away from shore Mako noticed a boy across the aisle who was smiling dumbly at him. Brow raised, Mako spoke skeptically, "What're you so happy about?"

"You look familiar!" said the boy cheerily. He couldn't have been more than fifteen or so, but looked every bit a stereotypical firebender. But no sooner had the boy spoken than he looked suddenly crestfallen. "But I don't remember from where."

Perplexed, Mako adjusted in his seat. The logbook was pressing uncomfortably into his rump. "Where are you from?"

"Oh," said the boy, "I'm from a tiny village near Crescent Island. It's its own island, though. We don't talk to the outside much."

"Informative."

"What's your name?" said the boy, again cheery and bright-eyed.

"Mako."

"Cool. My name is Yaozhu. Where are you from?"

"Republic City." Mako was tired of the cordiality, and his voice reflected his mood. If he could have, he would have crossed his arms, but they were bolted too tightly to the bench.

"Do you know where we're going?"

"No."

"Will you be my friend?"

Mako looked up suddenly, struck dumb by the sudden unexpected request. "What?"

Again, the boy looked disappointed. "Well, um…" he stammered. "My family was all sent ahead without me because I wasn't of age yet. I just turned sixteen a week ago."

"Oh," Mako replied, still deadpan and slightly unnerved by how little the "poor orphaned boy" excuse affected him any more. Five years ago he would've instantly granted the kid a _yes_ to friendship just by virtue of sharing similar pasts. Yet it sounded like Yaozhu's family was still alive somewhere, and Mako didn't care.

"We're combustion benders, you see," Yaozhu continued, brightly again and apparently unaware of Mako's wandering thoughts, "so we're in high demand for His Excellency, Guan! Now that I'm of age I can go to work!"

Mako scrutinized the boy even more thoroughly now. He had met only one combustion bender in his life, P'li, who had been a member of the Red Lotus and tried to kill Korra four years ago. The boy bore no outward indication of his combustion bending as P'li had, there was no third eye tattooed on his forehead, no menacing expression, no apparent insanity or psychosis.

"Why don't you have a tattoo?" Mako asked, genuinely interested now. "I thought all combustion benders had tattoos on their foreheads."

Yaozhu smiled. "No, not yet. We're not allowed to get tattoos until we've mastered combustion bending. I, ah… I'm not very good at it yet."

A budding combustion bender. Mako could have laughed if the notion wasn't so absurd.

"So, will you be my friend, Mako?"

"Yeah, whatever," Mako replied. Apparently satisfied, Yaozhu fell quiet, still grinning.

Mako's stomach had been rumbling for an hour when the ship gave a sudden lurch, and the bobbing of the waves seemed to stop. Water slapped against the hull of the boat. He looked around, as did the other prisoners, and noted guards descending the stairs in numbers. There was one guard for each three prisoners by Mako's count, and they disconnected the chains from the benches and herded the prisoners above deck and onto dry land. They had docked on another island, it seemed, well developed but as disused and dilapidated as the Boiling Rock had been. He could see an enormous statue silhouetted against the noontime sun that had been apparently defaced yet still rose above the tops of the buildings. It belched fire.

A man descended the beach and stood before the gathering of prisoners, looking distinguished in a maroon uniform decorated with shining metal accents. His high red boots were as glistening as the metal, and he wore on his head a beret-like cap tilted ever slightly to the right. A metal crest on his right shoulder bore the Fire Nation Insignia from the Hundred Year War. The man was important, if nothing else, at huge contrast with his surroundings, and commanded immediate attention.

"Welcome to Fire Fountain City," the man projected, "your home for the next weeks. Here you will be conditioned and assimilated into the Democratic Society of Firebenders, and upon completion of your training you will be assigned duties within our ranks. Consider yourselves lucky, not many make it this far, even among those touched by fire. You are rare and prized possessions of His Excellency Guan, Lord Protector of Firebenders everywhere, and you will do him good service." The man paused and looked between the faces of his audience, and when next he spoke his voice was menacing. "Be aware that failure to abide by the rules of this compound will result in punishment of an extreme nature. We do not wish to harm any firebender, but ultimately your well-being is your own responsibility. Consider this your only warning." He turned to the guards and nodded, then said, "Take them to their quarters. The first squad is expected in the yard in fifteen minutes."

Mako and the others marched single file toward the ruined city. He kept particular care to maintain the line after watching a woman stumble against her chains and fall outside of the rank, only to receive a swift punch in the back of the head. Mako grimaced for the woman. That had to have hurt.

The lane down which they walked eventually opened into a wide square over which the crumbling statue loomed. Mako looked up at it when the file stopped. The thing was supposed to be a human, though the left arm, shoulder, and head had been knocked off, and a great gout of fire sprang from the remnants of its neck like a flaming red fountain. Mako supposed that this was where the island had gotten its name.

At once the prisoners were separated into roughly equal groups, apparently by age. For better or worse, Yaozhu stood next to him at the end of the sorting along with seven other young men, and they watched as groups of elder benders were shoved off to their housing. When the yard had cleared another important looking man came before them.

"My name is Bingwei," the man said. His voice was clearer than the one on the beach, and his uniform had fewer metal adornments. He was distinctly younger, though still Mako's senior by a notable stretch. "I am your Captain, and you will address me as such. As the youngest members of the Society, you will be trained in fighting and insertion, and conditioned as warriors to maintain our freedom."

Mako's eyes wandered. He was already sick of the propaganda. A hawk flew overhead. A fist connected with the side of his face, and next he knew he was sprawled on the ground, his chained wrists at an awkward angle beneath him.

"I see you're going to be a problem, daydreamer," said Bingwei, roughing Mako back to his feet. He held Mako by the collar and glared into his face.

Mako glared back.

"You'll be fun to break."

Even though a knot was building in his throat, Mako forced himself to stare resolutely at the man. _I'm the alpha, _he thought. _Don't—_

Again, he was on the ground, his ears ringing painfully. This time it took him a long moment to struggle to his feet, so dazed was he, and when he finally stood Bingwei was addressing the rest, who were staring at Mako with terror.

"You will be taken to your quarters later. For now, we will lunch, and then you will begin training," Bingwei looked to the remaining few guards and nodded. "Unchain them."

Mako rubbed his wrists when the fetters had been removed, then rubbed his aching jaw and followed his rank into a building just off the plaza. It smelled like heaven—roasted meat of some kind, vegetables, sauces, and some spice that burned his nostrils when he inhaled—it was like being at home. His mouth watered.

The nine young men were seated at a table and presented with a single, tiny bowl of jasmine rice each.

"You have one minute!" Bingwei barked, and a bell rang overhead.

Around him, the others began to eat. Mako wondered how they could be breathing through the sheer amounts of rice they were stuffing in their mouths.

"Thirty seconds!"

Mako picked up the bowl and shoveled the rice into his mouth in suit. It was mushy, overcooked, and disgusting, but he barely tasted it as it slid down his throat. He wondered if this was how Bolin felt when he ate—if one could call what Bolin did _eating_.

Another bell rang and Bingwei shouted, "On your feet, men!"

The lot of them got to their feet.

"March!"

In a single file line, the group walked—shuffled—back out into the yard beneath the shadow of the statue. Bingwei screamed at them to form a line and they did, and when Bingwei shouted at them that their line was crooked they adjusted. Being at the center, Mako stood stone still, modestly afraid but too stubborn to show it.

"Your names!" Bingwei screamed, and he stood before Yaozhu, at the left end of the rank.

"Yaozhu Peng!" Yaozhu replied, imitating Bingwei's important tone.

Bingwei waited a beat, and struck Yaozhu to the ground. "You will refer to me as your _Captain_, boy!"

Yaozhu got slowly to his feet and stood straight, shoulders back, and said commandingly, "Yes, Captain! My name is Yaozhu Peng, Captain!"

_This is disgusting,_ Mako thought as Bingwei went down the line, _He's just a kid_. Each man introduced himself with the same gusto as Yaozhu had, addressing the captain by his title, giving his full name, standing at perfect attention. _I'm not a member of the United Forces. I don't have to deal with this. The Fire Nation can't conscript me, I'm not a citizen_.

Then Bingwei stood before him expectantly. "Your name!"

"Mako," replied Mako casually.

This time Mako anticipated the punch, and he blocked it deftly then jumped back out of rank. Bingwei, however, was not a man to be flustered.

"A man who denies his own punishment is the truest coward of them all," Bingwei said icily. And then he walked back to Yaozhu and struck the boy again, kicked him while he was down. Then he returned to Mako, who still stood in defensive posture, and looked smug. "Each time you defy me I'll hurt your fellows, then. Each time you defy me, the group will suffer. Is that what you want, _Mako_?"

Yaozhu rolled onto his side with a sickly groan, groping at his stomach. Mako felt sick. The kid had done nothing wrong. If anything, Yaozhu had done everything _right_ by measure of this crazed Captain.

Bingwei grabbed Mako's collar and pulled him back into rank. His nose an inch away, he barked, "Your name!"

"Mako, Captain," Mako replied timidly.

"Your surname!"

Mako floundered. Each of the others in his rank had had a last name, but he didn't. "I…Don't have a house name, sir."

Bingwei laughed haughtily, tossing Mako away and spraying him with just enough spittle to be disgusting. "I see how it is! Not only are you a half-wit coward, you're a half-wit, low-class _peasant_ of a coward." Then he moved down the line.

Minutes later, the group had finished their introductions, and Bingwei stood before them with his arms folded behind his back, surveying them. As a group they seemed strong, though the man to Mako's immediate right, named Chen, was slightly flabby, and the one to the right of Chen, named Jing, was outright fat.

"Hot squats! Now!" Barked Bingwei. "And count them!"

_I've never done a hot squat in my life,_ Mako groaned inwardly, though he bent and straightened his knees in rhythm with the rest.

"One hot squat, two hot squat, three hot squat, four hot squat!"

Yaozhu, despite his earlier mishap, was yelling loudest of the lot. Mako grumbled the words along with him, if only to keep the combustion bending boy—his friend—from any further harm.

By hot squat seventy, Mako began feeling nauseous. He'd eaten too much too fast. He was out of shape from his injuries after the explosion. Toru had assured him that he was ready to move on, but suddenly doubt was creeping into his mind. At ninety hot squats he felt faint. At one hundred hot squats, Bingwei commanded them to stop.

Chen stood with his hands on his knees, panting, his long black hair matted to his forehead, yellow eyes squinted closed.

"Stand straight, Chen Fu-Han!" Bingwei shouted at him, pulling Chen upright. "If you slouch again I'll make you do a hundred more!"

Chen promptly vomited down the front of his shirt, but stood resolutely with his eyes forward, his skin a sick green. Mako felt the food bubbling in his own stomach, his own nausea made worse by the smell of bile and overcooked, half-digested jasmine rice. He felt sweat pooling in the small of his back. It was suddenly very hot.

"Now run!" Bingwei snapped, and pointed into the heart of the city. The man at the end of the line opposite Yaozhu, named Fa, stumbled into a weak, halfhearted jog. Bingwei screamed, "Run!" again, and Fa picked up pace. To his credit, Bingwei ran right along with them.

Five circuits past the statue, fifty fire fists, seventy-five jumping jacks, fifty pushups, another circuit past the statue, and the whole of the group was delirious. Chen had vomited again on the fortieth jumping jack, prompting the extra twenty-five, and the rank was granted a brief break when Yaozhu collapsed on the thirtieth pushup. Mako didn't remember anything after that. All he knew was that somehow by evening he had wound up in a long, multi-storied dormitory with eight metal cots, hard as a stone, each with a single stiff pillow and the thinnest blanket he'd ever felt, surrounded by the smell of sweat and vomit and the slightest hint of jasmine. Still, it was better than sleeping on a trash heap.

He fainted onto the cot in his sweat soaked clothes, the gondola logbook forgotten in his back pocket.


End file.
